


A Bee In The Throne

by TauntedOctopi



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: BDSM, Class Differences, Class Issues, Derogatory Language, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Morality, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Work, Shibari, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Spanking, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TauntedOctopi/pseuds/TauntedOctopi
Summary: When at-the-time Vice President Rufus Shinra hires a sex worker from the Honeybee Inn to keep him company, neither he, nor the girl in question, suspect that they'll end up in an illicit romance that defies class differences and all odds.A now-complete romance novella.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Original Character(s), Rufus Shinra/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	1. Prologue

As far as girls like her went, she was his favourite. Or at least, the one he trusted most to be discreet. Perhaps that was why he sometimes found himself extending an invitation, sending a private car to collect her from the train station.

As far as slum girls went, Pandora was attractive. Slightly curvaceous. Thick, dark hair that curled when she didn't pull it back in an upstyle. Green eyes that seemed to glow, even in darkness, thanks to an old history with this place. Her cream skin was freckled in places, but her hands were always soft. If he hadn't been the one in charge of the Shinra Corp, she would never have set foot back in this place. 

It amused him, sometimes. He was the President, now, of the biggest corporate force on the planet. Handsome in his late twenties. Rich. He could have had his pick of girls. Why, then, did he choose to pay a whore from the slums to warm his bed?

At least with her, he knew it was a transaction. It would be difficult to trust anyone else for discretion, not to mention, not to simply want his money. At least in her case, it was acceptable.

She was dressed, tonight, in one of the dresses he had bought for her, that lived in the back of his closet for whenever she visited. The dress alone was worth at least a million gil, not to mention the jewelry. She never took his gifts with her, for discretion of course, but when he brought her to visit him, he liked her dressing the part. He had grown to respect her, simply because she respected him enough to pass his "test"; to keep what happened between them to herself. She always changed in the car that collected her. Even if he had seen her in her regular attire before, she preferred to be dressed in the part before she arrived. 

It was strange to her, to wear a dress worth more than she would have made in her life as a hostess if he hadn't taken notice of her. Strange, but not unwelcome. Whenever he brought her topside to see him, she had access to unlimited hot water, whatever clothes and food she wanted.

She wasn't materialistic. Her job as a hostess was a way to make ends meet, she didn't care about luxury, just wanted to survive as comfortably as she could.

The way he treated her when she visited, though, she liked. A lot. Not that it came without certain expectations. He expected full discretion from her. For her to dress a certain way, behave a certain way. That was fine by her. In her book, any man who would happily spend a million gil on a dress she had briefly looked at in a window, probably earned her discretion and, grudgingly, respect.

After a while, she'd learned to like him. At first it really had just been about the paycheck. But after spending time with him, she learned that he cared, in his own way. She’d certainly had less… savory clients. Rufus had quickly become one of her favored and then, maybe more, although she wasn’t about to say anything about that.

She was escorted to his door, same as always, by one of his suited Turks, who briefly nodded to Rufus as she entered his place. The blond smiled at her, nodding to the guard and dismissing him, closing the door and already striding back along the hallway. 

"Impeccable timing, as usual." he seemed almost under dressed without his excessive overcoat, suit jacket and lapel pins. She had to hurry to follow. 

By the time she caught up with him, he was already pouring whiskey from a crystal decanter, two glasses, sliding one across the fine glass table to her. 

"Well, you know what they say… Couldn't keep you waiting." Her accent was pronounced, the way she said some words heavier than others, some letters dropped. 

He had never particularly cared about her elocution. Liked that she was something other than the upper class he was so used to being surrounded by. 

"I appreciate your timekeeping. I hear it's still difficult to get a train from the slums." 

He patted the couch beside him; she moved to sit beside him, a swish of silk as she walked. 

"It's… Yes. A little difficult." 

He frowned. 

"I'll see what I can do about getting them back on schedule." 

"If I can… Even if the trains start up properly again, a lot of people will be too scared and too sick to go back to work." she chewed her lip, took a sip of the cold liquor. It was the harsh kind, the sort that they kept on the top shelf at the Honeybee. Barely any customer beyond the Turks could afford it. 

" You're right.. What a complete mess my dear father left us with…" he took a drink from his own glass, an expression of mild discontent on his face, "but luckily an excellent taste in liquor." 

She managed to crack a small smile. 

"I imagine so." 

"Don't worry, between us and my Turks, I'm sure we'll make a dent in his liquor cabinet before all this mess is sorted." Rufus seemed resigned as he spoke. He had not expected to inherit the Shinra Electric Power Company with one sector of the city of Midgar destroyed, tens of thousands dead, and one hell of a rebuild on his hands. 

He supposed it was a fair penance. 

" Is that why you asked me to come so late? To drink?" she twisted a strand of hair between her fingers, surveying the amber liquid in her glass. 

"Not just to drink." 

At her questioning look, he sighed, and she noticed the slightly dark circles under his eyes. 

"I couldn't sleep." He admitted finally, "and I knew you'd be awake, working…" 

His generous, anonymous donations to the Honeybee Inn kept her off Corneo's radar, and ensured Andrea would overlook her sometimes days-long absences. 

"I got the last train out as soon as you called." 

He never called so late, so urgently. What choice had she had? She had almost been worried. 

"I didn't want to be here alone. I needed a distraction." 

"You could have called Reno?" Pandora knew that he and the Turk were almost friends. Maybe they could have played cards. Rufus had once commented that Reno was the only one with the balls to call him out on counting cards. It had amused him. He was fond of the redhead, she was sure. 

"Not the same sort of distraction I needed." he frowned, finished his drink in a single long gulp, moving to pour another. 

"Well why don't you tell me about it?" she suggested. He set the decanter down without pouring. 

"Later." he agreed, "come closer." 

She scooted over into his lap, which was secretly her favorite place to sit. He was so powerful, had been even before he was President. She loved the fact that he liked her sitting in his lap like any ordinary man. 

"Much better." He almost relaxed with her in his arms. Almost. 

If asked, Pandora could pinpoint exactly when it had stopped being about the paycheck, the elaborate gifts, and when it had solely become about him. 

She wasn't supposed to fall in love with her client, particularly not one so powerful. She doubted she could ever have him, outside of this arrangement. 

How, then, had she possibly gotten here? How had she allowed herself to get into such a situation? 

It was, as the tropes go, a long story.


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pandora recieves instructions from a mysterious client, taking her to the upper plate.

The evening sunset might have been nice to witness, if it was real. The artificial sunlamps got tiring after a while, even if you were used to them. The vast majority of the residents of the slums had been there for their entire lives, and so had never seen the real sky. 

Pandora Kincaid sighed as her gaze to the false sky fell back to the street ahead; she turned down another alleyway, took the stone steps two at a time, then found herself outside The Honeybee Inn, her place of work for the past five and a half years. Such a long term of employment had left her with a good regular clientele base, and, if she was confident, a decent rapport with the Inn's owner, Andrea. 

Pushing open the heavy doors, she stepped inside, eager to drop her bag, change into her striped bee lingerie, and get started on her makeup for the evening. No doubt one of the others would want help with their hair, and, if she offered, chances were someone would help with hers, too. There was a sense of unity between the workers; they were all in the same position, selling their company and their bodies in hope of a better life. She had heard it wasn't as unified in other similar establishments. 

As she ascended the stairs to the dressing rooms, her mood lifted considerably. It was difficult to hate her position when surrounded by others in the same circumstance. Maybe one day, they would all be able to live better. Dropping her bag containing her heeled shoes, she sank into one of the cushioned stools in front of the well-lit mirror wall. She was, as usual, the first of the evening girls to arrive. She found the security of the Inn comforting, would much rather be there than in her tiny apartment over in Sector Seven. 

Still, that gave her plenty of time to get ready. Pulling her thick hair into a casual ponytail, to style later, she selected a makeup brush from the pot and picked out her favourite primer.   
She worked in silence, transforming her bare face into something from a magazine. As she was putting the finishing touches on, setting spray and shimmer dust, there was a light knock on the door. 

"Yeah?" She didn't bother to look up. It was probably one of the guys, or perhaps Andrea to tell her she had a request for the evening already. It wasn't uncommon for her to be busy, no particular pattern to when she might or might not be. Mostly people just wanted someone to dance with, to blow off some steam. Being higher progile, she was afforded the luxury of being picky. She hadn't always been; the new girls (and guys) often got lumped with whoever paid highest. 

"Ah, Pandora, you're here early, excellent." Andrea closed the door behind him, elaborate coat rustling with the movement. He was holding a dress bag. 

She resisted a sigh. Here we go, another request. Please, please don't be anything weird. 

"Sure am, boss, you know me." She stretched, snagging some hairpins from their container to start working on her hair. Regardless of the client, or if she was simply working the floor, she made sure she looked good. 

"Good, because there's a matter we need to discuss." 

"New client?" She put her pins down and turned to face her boss. It had to be someone reasonably classy, if he was delivering the news himself. Usually it was passed down the line, or left in a note pinned to the requested hostess' locker. 

"Yes. You've been chosen specifically from a small shortlist I put together personally."

"Personally?" Green eyes narrowed in curiosity. If Andrea, personally, had put her name forward, the mystery client must be a big deal. Someone topside, most likely. 

"Your mannerisms and discretion seemed to be best suited to what the client is looking for. I assume he will discuss more with you at the location."

Wait, what? Had she heard him correctly? 

"Location?"

"Yes, a driver will arrive to collect you in roughly an hour, so." Her boss held out the dress bag, "You should probably get dressed and sort your hair." 

Suddenly nervous, she took the bag. Was it just her, or did Andrea seem unsettled? Whoever this client was, clearly a lot was hanging on making a good impression. Luckily, she hoped she was up to the task. Maybe, if she was lucky, the paycheck would get her out of her current apartment, or at least a decent piece of materia to defend herself with. 

"I got this, boss. Don't worry." 

Although overdramatic, Andrea really did care about everyone who worked in his establishment, she knew that. 

"This could be life changing for you, Pandora. I'll send someone when your driver is here." 

With that, he was gone, leaving her with the dress bag draped over her arm and an impending sense of anxiety. Perhaps if there hadn't been so much mystery surrounding the situation, she would have been more relaxed. As it was, she would work with what she had. Taking a few deep breaths, she stood, hanging the dress bag on one of the empty racks for closer inspection. It was best to style her hair to match the dress; she wasn't about to go in blind. 

Painted nails toyed with the zip for a moment. She only had an hour, she needed to stop hesitating, especially if she might need to spend a long while on her hair. Huffing, she dragged the zip of the bag down, revealing the dress. 

Her jaw dropped. It was a knee-length little number, a slit in the left side. The color wasn't quite grey, wasn't quite silver, and a single touch of her fingers to the fabric told her it was expensive. Velvet, maybe? The real kind, not imitation. Dimly, Pandora was grateful for her shiny black heels that went with everything. This? This was intense. A dress like this would have cost hundreds, maybe thousands, of gil. More than she made in days, possibly even a week, even with the most generous clients. The matching lingerie was even more so.   
It was for that reason alone that she was extremely careful as she slipped the dress over her head, zipping it up and examining herself in the mirror. Thankfully, she preferred neutral tones for makeup, so she wouldn't have to alter anything. Her hair, though? She pondered it for a while before she unpinned it, took out the ponytail, and started over.

She brushed the heavy waves over to one side, falling over her left shoulder. Taking a portion of the top, she pinned it to give it a slightly more elegant look. Whoever the mystery man was, clearly he expected classy. Luckily, she could do classy. Slipping her feet into her shoes, she fiddled with her phone while she waited, dearly wishing she could take a photo of herself dressed like this. However, she got the feeling her client wouldn't appreciate that, and she had promised Andrea full discretion.   
As she fussed over the particulars of this, there was a light knock at the door, and all thought of photos went out of her mind. Standing, ditching her bag into her locker, snagged the clutch from the dress bag that she had noticed mid-dressing, she headed for the door. 

"Back door." Was all Andrea told her before disappearing back into his office. Stuffing her ID and her phone into the little bag, Pandora followed the instructions, heading back down the stairs she had come in via mere hours ago, making a left to the back exit rather than a right for the lobby. 

If the dress had shocked her, it was nothing compared to the vehicle waiting. It was one of the latest models, sleek and jet black in color. One of the rear passenger doors opened almost silently.   
She might be from the slums where cars were almost non existent, but she wasn't stupid. Wordless, Pandora climbed in, careful not to ruin or wrinkle her dress. 

The sight of a man in a black suit and sunglasses greeted her. A Turk, then? She supposed that made sense. They were Shinra's elite black ops division. The man in question didn't seem the type to hire girls like her, though, but she supposed she could be wrong. She didn't speak; it wasn't her job to speak, unless spoken to. 

"It's a relatively long drive. Please make sure you wear your seatbelt." The man returned his attention to his phone when she complied. There went all thought of casual conversation, although she was left, then, with the distinct impression that this man was not the mystery client. Perhaps a Soldier? She wasn't sure, and there was little point fussing now. 

Settling back into the seat, she exhaled, trying to enjoy the ride as they approached the tunnel that would take them topside. 

When she was younger, before she had been topside the first time, she had always dreamed of visiting the upper plate. That was before the war with Wutai had killed her parents, left her destitute. She had gotten her wish of visiting the plate, but not as a tourist. She had signed up for a test program at Shinra HQ, some sort of experiment to see if they could create female Soldiers. She had spent two years topside, part of gruelling tests, left with nothing after to show for it, except her strange colored eyes from the Mako exposure. 

Nineteen, destitute, having signed an NDA, she had found work where only girls like her could - Wall Market. She had gotten lucky, in having Andrea take her in. Other establishments weren't as kind to nineteen year old girls with little to their names. But now she was twenty four, well known, tougher. And if some fancy topside man wanted her, well, she would put on a good show for him. 

"Where are we going?" She didn't expect an answer; curiosity had overtaken her as they sped out of the tunnel onto sparkling topside streets, bathed in true, real, sunset. 

"Sector One." The nameless Turk answered without looking up, "The rest is classified." 

Fair enough. She hadn't even expected that much. Sector One. That was where most of Shinra's elite lived, in fancy terraced houses, surrounded by man-made parklands and blissful city life, the air rich in Mako energy. Andrea hadn't been kidding, then. She had to strongly resist the urge to chew her nails, a nervous habit; she didn't particularly believe her mystery client would settle for anything less than pristine perfection. 

As the car wound through side streets, the lamps began to switch on, lighting the way. Everything just seemed so new and well maintained up on the plate. It was an entirely different world to the mismatched world of the slums, where everyone learned to make do, and traded what they could for what they needed.   
Finally, they pulled to a stop within a gated driveway, outside a heavy wooden door. The Turk held up a hand to her. 

"Wait. I'll get your door for you." 

Pandora did as she was told, unclipping her seat belt and waiting for the Turk to circle the car and get her door for her. She wasn't sure why the sudden display of chivalry, but she wasn't about to question it. As she stepped out of the car, Pandora got a better look at her client's home. It was much like every other terrace on the street. Upper class. Secure. The Turk walked ahead of her, already speaking on his phone.

"Yes, we're outside, Reno, for the love of Gaia just come and open the door before the entire Sector decides to gawk." 

Her feet had barely touched the porch before the door swung open, revealing yet another suited Turk. This one seemed a little younger, with shockingly red hair pulled back into a ponytail, a hoop in his ear, and, by the look of it, a tongue piercing. 

"C'mon, get in here, man." 

Her companion stepped aside so she could go first, following her and closing the door behind her. 

"Um?" 

This was all very strange to her; honestly she was proud of herself for simply saying 'um', rather than a much more colorful question. 

"Man, you really didn't tell her shit, huh? Idiot. I told the boss he should have sent me." The redhead, presumably Reno, rolled his eyes at the man in sunglasses. 

"I wasn't sure it was time appropriate. She'll find out for herself, soon enough."

"Christ, Rude..." The redhead rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to Pandora. "Second floor. First door on the right." 

When she made no move to actually make for the stairs, the redhead scowled at his partner. 

"Didn't have to scare the poor girl, fuck. C'mon," he made for the stairs, clearly expecting her to follow. Extremely confused, but entirely curious, she followed. 

"We stay on the ground floor. Boss has refurbished the first as his own place, so don't worry about being watched or nothing." The redhead explained as they ascended, "Try not to freak out. Rude isn't the best at casual chat." 

They reached a lobby; the redhead knocked, then opened the door. 

"She's here, boss. Rude scared the crap out of her, so I brought her up." Inclining his head, she took his cue, stepping into the room. 

"Thank you, Reno. You can go." The voice was accented; at first she wasn't certain who the owner was, but then her eyes focused to the soft artificial light, and she got a good look at the man who had hired her. 

She had seen him on the news before, of course. Who hadn't? He had always seemed so intimidating in his long, white coat with the many belts and his enormous military hound beside him. Even with the abscence of the coat and the hound, he was still terrifying. 

The man looked up, and Pandora was met with the cold blue eyes of Rufus Shinra, Vice President of the Shinra Electric Power Company, and the second most powerful man on the planet. 

"Mister Vice President." She found her voice - and her manners - finally. 

"I hope your journey wasn't exceptionally unpleasant." He indicated the seat in front of his desk, "Please, sit down, Pandora." 

She could hardly refuse the invitation, even if he was radiating intimidation. The chair was surprisingly comfortable, but then again, she couldn't expect any less of someone like him. The car, the dress, they were nothing to him, mere change to spend, she was sure. How much had he paid Andrea? How much was he paying her, for this? She wasn't sure, but she was certain it was a dizzying sum. 

"I apologise for all the mystery. It's simply an unfortunate part of the job." He set down his pen, shuffled the papers he had been revising. "I assure you, you're perfectly safe here." 

"If... If I may... why am I here, exactly?" 

A perfect blonde eyebrow rose.

"You are a sex worker, are you not?"

"Yes, but-"

"But, surely someone like me doesn't need to resort to hiring whores to warm my bed?" there was a hint of amusement to his tone. Speechless, she nodded. She hadn't expected such a crass word to fall from his mouth. It didn't seem right, and yet, he was perfectly at ease.

"You see, Pandora, with a girl like you, I know precisely what I'm getting into. It's a simple transaction. Regular women could be after all sorts. Money. A story to sell to the press. Clout." He shrugged, "far less complicated to simply pay someone for their time, no?" 

She supposed he had almost been hit with one too many scandals, simply by the resigned hint to his tone. It made perfect sense to her, and besides. She was going to benefit from this regardless. She was no gold digger, had no interest in selling a story to the press. She simply wanted a better life, and his paycheck to her might just be the ticket.

"I... Yes, that makes sense."

He nodded, unfolded his hands. "Wonderful. Then shall we proceed to your contract?"

"Contract?" She blinked at him.

"Ah. I see you weren't informed. I'm seeking something of a longer term arrangement. If you follow your contract and continue to please me, I will gladly provide you with a living allowance, clothing to wear while you are up on the plate... Small luxuries?"

It wasn't anything like she had done before, but she didn't mind. This was the sort of thing she had dreamed of, some rich man coming along, taking a shine to her, lifting her out of poverty. 

"... What's in the contract?" She was poor, yes, but not stupid, and she wanted to make sure she wasn't walking into some sort of trap. Perhaps it was too good to be true.

He slid a cream sheet of paper across the desk to her. The paper was heavy, expensive, much like everything else in the room. She hadn't paid much attention to the room before, but it seemed to be some sort of office and living space combined. More formal. 

Her eyes skimmed the paper, reading each dotpoint. A pen was slid across the desk to her. 

"Before you sign. Do you have any questions?"

"Not really." The contract was surprisingly straightforward; complete discretion. Non disclosure. A certain standard of formality. To dress in a way befitting her new status... wait a moment.

"My new status... What does that mean?"

The corner of his mouth turned upward into the hint of a smile.

"It means I expect you to dress the way you are now. Presentable. You may be from the Slums, but if I own you, you are to maintain an appearance befitting the Vice President's mistress. Understood?" 

Speechless, she nodded. If he owned her? What was that about? It sounded precisely like what she thought it meant. But regardless of whether he scared her, she found herself reaching for the pen, hand shaking only slightly as she signed her name. She was perfectly safe here, he had said. He had also said he owned her, but she didn't want to consider those as potentially conflicting statements. 

"You will also refrain from taking any other sexual clients. Andrea will be made aware of these restrictions and paid heftily to deal with any displeased clients." He said it casually, looking over the contract that she had returned to him. 

Perhaps he expected her to argue, but what was the point? He was not a man to argue with, and what could she possibly say? There was nothing to be said. He had made it plain that he would provide for her. Besides, she could still dance. There was good money in simply dancing. 

"That's understood." 

"Good. I do not share my belongings." The blonde stood. "Come. I don't intend to spend this entire evening discussing the ins and outs of your contract. You may look it over at any time, when I don't have use for you." 

He led her out of the office, which she assumed was more of a recieving room, and into the apartment proper. A modern kitchen glittered, spotless, accompanied by an open living space. A large couch. An armchair. A coffee table, topped with a decanter and several glittering glasses. 

They took a left turn into their destination, and she found herself frozen in the threshold. It was easily the most high class bedroom she had ever been in. The carpet was thick, even under the heels of her shoes, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling, looking entirely in place. The bed was enormous, neatly made with a thick quilt and silk sheets, curtains surrounding it on a wrought iron frame. Another pair of doors to the left presumably led to a bathroom and a closet. 

Had she been in her regular attire, she would have felt incredibly out of place. As it was, she was still overwhelmed. 

"Take off your shoes." he was standing over by the bed, waiting, with the air of a man that it would be exceptionally unwise to displease. Pandora took a few steps into the room, toed off her shoes, and approached him. As she went, she moved to unzip her dress. 

"Stop." 

Her hand froze.

"When you're told." 

She knew this game, though she had never met someone who was quite as practised at exerting dominance as he was. Her hand dropped as she waited for her next instruction. 

"Come closer." 

She approached until she was right in front of him. Only then did he sit on the edge of the bed, but not before removing his belt, folding it in half neatly and setting it aside. One glance told her it was real leather, the sort that would hurt if the mood struck him to use it on her.

"Knees." 

She dropped carefully, still not wanting to ruin the dress he had chosen for her. It might be nothing to him, but she had never worn something so expensive. Ruining it seemed almost criminal.   
She was rewarded with a small nod of approval. 

"Obedience comes naturally to you, it seems." There was definite praise in the blonde's tone, now. 

Pandora nodded. "Yes."

"Were you taught, or is this natural to you?" Curiosity piqued, Rufus couldn't help but ask the question.

"Natural," Pandora answered truthfully. It was not something she allowed to be exploited. He was a particularly different case. 

"Even better, then." He rolled his shoulders and sighed. "Shoes, if you wouldn't mind."

She refused to be lulled into false security. It was not a request, and she knew it. With a little nod of her head, she untied his expensive dress shoes, set them aside. He was good, too good, at building the tension and suspense. She almost would have preferred it if he'd simply pinned her down and had his way with her. At least then she wouldn't be so tense, caught in wondering what he possibly had planned for her. 

"Good." He nodded, brushed white strands from his eyes, "I think you'll do very nicely." 

She wasn't sure whether to be encouraged or intimidated, but then again, Pandora supposed, that was the point.

"I hope so." She spoke, finally; she didn't want him to think she was uninterested, or stupid. 

He smirked. 

"Finally, some confidence. I was worried Andrea had oversold your personality. No matter. I'm sure you'll adjust, soon enough." His hand stroked her hair, a gesture she had not been expecting. The hand crossed her cheek, slow and deliberate. She had no doubt that he wouldn't hesitate to be less gentle, should she disappoint him.   
His thumb slid between her painted lips; a gesture she was all too familiar with. No longer feeling out of place, she lightly sucked on the digit, enhanced green eyes meeting cold blue. She almost smirked. Almost. 

"Very nicely." He repeated, removing his finger from her mouth. 

Before she could respond, he was moving to unzip his pants, a gentle rustle of soft fabric as he did so. 

"I don't imagine you need further instruction?" There it was again, that wry amusement in his tone. Smiling, Pandora shook her head. 

As she took his length into her hand, stroking slowly, she brushed her hair back over her shoulder. It wouldn't do to have it get in the way. 

It wasn't fair, she thought, that some people were built so naturally perfect. He was one of them, with his perfect face, toned body... of course that extended to his cock, too. Perfect length, just above average. A slight curve. A certain thickness that she knew would fill her just right.   
Yes, he was a client, but it was hard not to appreciate what she was working with. Would be working with, for the forseeable future.   
She licked a lazy stripe along the underside of his length, base to tip, getting used to the taste. His skin tasted faintly of vanilla, some sort of floral undertone. It was unexpected, but she liked it, wondering what sort of fancy soap he used. 

Her lips found his tip; he made no move to stop her, clearly not caring if her lipstick stained his skin. Her eyes met his, stared him down as she worked her tongue slowly around him, took him further into her mouth. He made no sound, but there was a pleased glint in his eyes. Spurred on, she took him fully into her mouth, relaxing her throat, sucking gently. To her approval, he moved his hips slightly, not quite fucking her mouth yet, but no longer letting her do all the work. She drew her mouth back, tongue licking at the precum forming on his tip before taking him in again. This time he moved his hips sharply, almost making her choke. Almost. The look in his eyes dared her to challenge him; eyes watering slightly, she continued, breathing through her nose and letting him rock into her mouth at his own pace. 

After a few moments, he pulled out of her mouth. 

"Stand up, take your dress off." 

She wiped her mouth on her hand and got to her feet, fingers finding the zip to the dress. The velvet pooled on the thick carpet, leaving her in the underwear that had come with it. Had she imagined it, or was that a vague look of approval in his eyes?

While she had undressed, he had removed his waistcoat, loosened his tie, and set aside his pants. 

"Untie this." His gaze fell to the tie, and she moved to obey, deftly unknotting the fabric. Was it silk? It was silver, like her dress. He seemed to favor shades of cream, lilac, and silver. They suited him. Perhaps that was why he liked her dressed in them, too. A pretty accessory. Somehow that bothered her less than expected. 

When she moved to set the tie aside, he shook his head, took it from her and set it next to the belt. 

"Take off the rest. Slowly." 

As she took off the lingerie, making a show of it, he unbuttoned his shirt, discarded it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

"Now what?"

First mistake. His eyes narrowed.

"You speak when you're spoken to. Is that clear?"

"Yes..." She couldn't believe she had made such a rookie mistake. 

"Yes, what?" A raised eyebrow, his hand reaching for the belt. 

"Yes, sir." She knew the prompt, somehow knew precisely which title he would favor. His hand hovered over the belt before returning to his lap. 

"Next time, you will be punished for forgetting." 

"Yes, sir." 

He nodded, clearly satisfied, cold eyes roaming her body for a moment before he stood. "Sit."

She took his place, mildly confused, until she saw him take the tie with him. 

"Hold out your hands." 

She did as she was told, watching in interest as he tied her hands together. 

"Very good. I don't like being touched, usually. Perhaps next time." He admired his handiwork, "but not when I still have to break you in."

He spoke so casually, as though discussing a new pair of shoes. Pandora wasn't sure where he had learned to be like this, but secretly, she was enjoying it. A lot. 

"Lie back, and put your hands above your head."   
Feeling oddly vulnerable, she did as instructed; she was only alone for a moment before she felt the mattress dip, then he was hovering over her, one hand holding her bound hands in place. 

"They said you were compliant, but truly, you're exceeding my expectations." It was as close to a compliment as one could get from a man like Rufus Shinra, and she knew it. 

He leaned into her, inhaling the scent of her perfume. "Tell me, who do you belong to?"

"You." The answer was easy.

"That's right." His mouth covered hers, soft lips molding to meet her own. Like everything else about him, his kiss was demanding, hungry, controlled. The hand that wasn't pinning hers in place trailed between her legs, exploring almost lazily. Perhaps if he was anyone else, she would be embarassed by how wet she was. Somehow, though, it seemed right. Seemed that he would approve of her enjoyment. 

Her suspicion was correct; he smirked into their kiss, spreading her thighs apart with both his hand and knee, clearly lining himself up. 

"You have an implant, yes?" He nodded to the small scar on her forearm. She nodded. It was top quality.   
He hummed approval, said nothing more, simply returned to kissing her as he began to press inside her. Although she could take him, he was slow, for which she was grateful. Dominance didn't have to mean unnecessary pain. 

"This part isn't supposed to hurt." He spoke, as if reading her thoughts, lifting her leg slightly so he could fully sheath himself inside her. For a moment, she wondered if he would remain this gentle. 

Any illusion was promptly shattered by a sharp snap of his hips, drawing a shocked moan from her lips. A smug smirk crossed those impossibly perfect features. 

"Don't get complacent, Pandora. This is simply for your benefit. I'll have you on your knees before long." It was a warning, filth that seemed out of place coming from someone who looked the way he did, but she accepted it nonetheless. She had no doubt that she would do whatever was asked - more like demanded - of her without complaint or much argument. 

He was rough, bordering on brutality. Clearly, he hadn't been being flippant about breaking her in. She took it in stride, wrapping her legs tight around his waist, hands pinned firmly in place as he fucked into her. Deep, rough, sharp thrusts that made her moan and scream. Was it just her, or did the odd low growl escape his throat? She couldn't be sure, so dazed as she was, her fingers scrabbling into the silk sheets, desperate for something to hold onto and ground her. 

Just as she was getting close, he pulled out of her.

"Don't even fucking think about it." Loosening his grip on her hands, he flipped her onto her front, pinning her again, hands with his, body with his own weight. "You come when I tell you." 

A broken sob of frustration tore from her throat. She had been so close, he had been hitting her sweet spot so nicely...  
He slammed back into her, the hand that wasn't pinning hers holding her body firmly in place. There was no mistaking the soft growl of satisfaction this time; it was at least satisfying to know that he was enjoying himself as much as she was. 

The briefest thought of another satisfied customer flickered through her brain, replaced almost instantly by nothing but bliss as he slammed into her harder, further turning her into a pleading mess. Clearly, this was what he wanted. Someone to submit to him, someone to dominate and use as he saw fit. Pandora couldn't say she minded, but then again, she wasn't remotely in a thinking place right now. 

"Please," she choked out, tortured by his constant edging, "Please let me -"

"Have you been good enough to deserve it?" It was a trick question, and she knew it, but she was so desperate she didn't care.

"Yes..." 

"I'm sorry?" He paused in his brutal pace, "And just what makes you think you have the authority to make that call?" 

"I-" An image of the waiting belt flashed through her mind.

The hand pinning hers moved; she knew exactly what for, and stayed perfectly still.

"Compliance won't save you," his breath was hot against her ear, "I told you, didn't I? Disobedience is punishable." 

The weight of his body was removed from her; without pulling out of her, he sat up, folded the belt neatly to avoid the buckle hitting her. 

"Shall we say three, for a beginner offense?" 

"Yes sir," she agreed, "Thank you, sir."

She could almost hear his smile as he spoke again. "Much better. Aren't you a fast learner? Count them."

There was a faint whistle of leather in the air before impact. It made her eyes water, her skin sting painfully, but she held composure.

"One."

"One, good girl." He rewarded her with a painfully slow thrust, before raising the belt again. The second impact hurt far more; a small yelp tore from her mouth, but Pandora was nothing if not determined. 

"Two."

"One to go," he agreed, moving again, rubbing his hand over the forming bruise his belt had left. He was always so precise with those. 

The third made her cry out, stammer, but she managed to get out a small 'three' nonetheless. 

"Now," he turned her over again, onto her back, "What have we learned?"

"That you own me. You make the rules." How embarrassing, she was close to tears. 

"That's right. You're such a good girl." He pressed back inside her, "I'm going to let you come now. Whenever you're ready. Since you took those so well."

It surprised her how ready she was still, despite the pain and the raging storm of emotions fighting within her. On one hand, she was terrified of him, couldn't wait to be away from beating range. On the other, she wanted more, wanted him to use her as he saw fit, and punish her with pain when she overstepped. 

He was still rough, but slower now, getting deep and grinding against her before pulling almost all the way out of her and slamming back in.   
When he felt her start to tighten around him, he clasped her chin in his hand, forced her to look at him.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You?"

"Say my name." It was less harsh than the first demand, but even so, she was almost shy as she whimpered his name, finally tightening and releasing around him, gasping for breath. 

His pace increased again, back to the fast, rough strokes he had been hitting when she was on all fours for him. Suddenly his question about her implant made sense; a brief moment of panic hit her despite her blissed out mind, enough to almost jerk her right out of sub space. 

"You are mine, to do with as I please," he reminded her softly, thumb stroking her face again. For a moment she thought he would, but then at the last moment he pulled out of her, growling an obscenity as he spilled his release onto her stomach, hot, thick ropes of it coating her sweaty skin. 

She wondered, then, if he had sensed her panic, decided at the last moment not to be so cruel. Or perhaps simply he hadn't wanted the fuss, in case her implant decided to fail. She couldn't imagine a bigger scandal than fathering a bastard child on a whore from the slums. 

While she had been pondering, he had fished what seemed to be a handkerchief from the bedside cabinet, and oddly enough, was cleaning her up with it.

"I-?" 

"Aftercare is important." His voice was a little ragged, but otherwise normal, his normally perfect hair mussed. "You did very well."   
Turning her onto her side with little effort, he inspected his handiwork for a moment before he untied her hands, rubbing her wrists to help the circulation.

"Warm water will help. You took those well. I take it it isn't something you're used to?"

"Scenes like this?" She asked. 

"Yes."

"No. It's not... usually safe for us, to let clients... but in our case, it's different." He had hired her for this specific purpose, hadn't he? To keep him company and fuck him as he saw fit. He was the exception, and they both knew it. 

"Hmm." He didn't seem displeased by this information. "Would you like to shower here? Or just rest, before you return home?" 

She liked being given the option, somewhere in her brain fog.

"Um.. Rest, please. I can shower at home." That and she didn't want to wash off her makeup. It didn't seem to her that it would meet his standard to see her bare faced. 

"Very well. Get dressed at your leisure. I'm going to shower." Without another word, he left her alone in the enormous, suddenly cold, bed. 

She waited until she heard water running before she shakily got to her feet. Her ass hurt; she knew it would be black and blue by morning, if not already. The rope burn on her wrists was irritating, but not painful. Her entire body hurt, but Gaia, if she didn't want more.

With trembling legs she dressed herself before settling back on the bed, waiting for someone to come and take her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was... a labor of love, honestly. I can't promise daily updates but I'll be working very hard on the next chapter whenever I'm able.


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pandora recieves a surprise call after class divides rear their heads.

Artificial sunlight crept through tattered blinds, barely filtered by thin curtains that had hung in the apartment long before Pandora had rented it. Exhausted and mildly irate by the sudden light intrusion, she stuffed her head under her pillow and groaned. 

It had been almost dawn when she had arrived back in Sector Seven, sans Turk bodyguard this time. That was something for which she was glad; there was absolutely no way in which the pair on duty wouldn't have heard her. While she wasn't particularly embarrassed by that sort of thing, it would have been an uncomfortable car ride. It was mid afternoon, now. She wasn't surprised at having slept so long. 

She rolled onto her back, and instantly let out a small hiss at the sting to her backside. Great. Definitely something to inspect in the mirror soon. There was no way she wouldn't be bruised, but she had expected nothing less after such a brutal treatment. She certainly had been left oddly satisfied, though, a rarity in her line of work. Well, Pandora supposed, if she was going to have a long-term contract with the guy, at least he could get her off. 

The vibration of her phone made her dig her head out from under the pillow, snagging it from the nightstand. Unlocking it, she blinked, sat up. Surely she was misreading that message?  
No, even with cleared eyes, her screen was clearly showing a deposit of ten thousand gil into her account. Ten thousand gil! That was rent for a month, with a little left over. Hell, she could probably afford to get a chocobo cart to Sector Six instead of walking for the rest of the week, too. 

There was an attached note, which simply read: get something for pain - R. 

Pandora groaned. Stretching again, she sent an auto deposit to her landlord, before finally standing and heading for her tiny bathroom. Most clients would pay two thousand gil for her time. Of course, she supposed a man like Rufus could afford to be more generous, but still. Ten thousand gil? For the first night? Maybe he was feeling bad for being so rough with her, but she was more inclined to believe it was generosity. The guy was rich as hell. He probably had no idea what ten thousand gil would mean to someone like her. 

Stripping off her worn plaid pajama pants, she examined herself in the full length mirror on the wall, letting out a low whistle. Sure enough, bright purple bruises adorned the left side of her ass. 

"Well, shit." That was going to be fun to explain later, she thought as she turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. While she waited, she brushed her teeth, pointedly ignoring her own reflection. She probably looked like thoroughly fucked shit, and she wasn't interested in playing judge on herself. Ditching her toothbrush back beside the sink, she stripped off her shirt and stepped into the shower. 

The hot water was relieving, though it wouldn't last long; she was in and out again in under ten minutes, vaguely regretting not taking the offer of a shower topside. She doubted a lack of hot water was something that someone like Rufus Shinra had to worry about. Next time, she told herself as she dried her hair. 

The dress from the previous night had been left topside; before she had left, she had been told to change into the contents of yet another dress bag. This time, jeans and a sweater. Still fancy, compared to what she had, but no way near as worthy of staring at. Still, they were nice, and brand new, so she felt absolutely zero guilt in dressing in those and the low heeled sandals that had come with them. If she was going to walk to the market, she figured she may as well be comfortable. Unfortunately, she doubted whether the healing materia sold there would be strong enough to fix the bruises in one go. She might just have to deal with showing them off at the Inn that night, dodging questions that would doubtless come her way. 

Locking her apartment door behind her, Pandora made her way through the busy slum to the centre market, intent on finding at least a semi decent piece of materia for her needs. Regardless of whether she had the funds for it or not, it was a case of supply. The best materia always went topside, leaving the slums with lower level scraps. It wasn't uncommon for construction workers to pool resources to afford just a basic materia to help a friend's sick child. 

It was therefore entirely expected to have little choice; selecting a small orb that she could snap into her bracelet. It was nothing special, but it would take the sting out of the bruising, at least. She paid up and headed on her way, fitting the new materia as she walked.  
It was about time to start heading over to the Inn; she decided to walk it after all. It was a nice day, and she was warm in her new sweater. It was a reasonable walk between sectors, but she was glad for the exercise; it helped her stretch out any tension leftover from the previous night. 

As she made her way over, she found her thoughts drifting to her new client. Would he call for her tonight? Somehow she doubted it, but she couldn't be certain. Would he have someone call her, then call the Inn? Or would she be expected to explain things to Andrea? Pandora had no idea, only knew that Andrea was being paid a good amount of money for her absences and new work restrictions. She doubted, then, that the Inn's proprietor would much care when and where she disappeared to. 

On her way through the walled off town, she stopped at one of the many food stalls, preparing for the nightly influx of customers, and bought a basket of muffins to share around with whoever was working. Bruised and sore as she was, she still found herself in a particularly good mood, something she wanted to share around. 

As was her usual, she headed straight upstairs to the ladies dressing room, intent on setting the muffin basket down and going about her usual routine.   
She was halfway to the door when Andrea called out to her from his office. Sighing, she made a right, heading in the direction of said call out. 

"Hey, boss." She stepped into the office; Andrea's sense of decor was impeccable, she loved being invited in to talk. He waited til she was sitting, with a cup of coffee, to speak. Something else she appreciated about Andrea. He took care of his employees, even with little things like coffee. 

"So. You made a good impression." It wasn't a question. 

"I guess so?" 

"Considering I recieved a large sum of money today and instructions that you aren't to sell anything but dances, conversation, and drinks, I would say you definitely did." He didn't seem annoyed. Whatever Rufus had paid, it would clearly make up for income lost on any clients she would no longer see. 

"I... Yeah. I suppose so? Is that... an issue?" Better to be safe than sorry, and check.

"Definitely not. I have already arranged new girls for your regulars. I'm sure they'll be more than satisfied with the change, once they adjust." The proprietor peered at her over his coffee mug, "I know absolutely nothing about this client, Pandora. I trust you to keep yourself safe up there. But if you do need anything..."

It was sweet of him to offer. It just went to show he really didn't know who the client was. Perhaps suspected someone high ranking, but definitely not Rufus himself. If he knew, then he would know that there was no fight to be had. 

"Everything's fine, boss, don't worry. I'll make a special cocktail tonight, try rake in the sales." 

He shook his head. "No need. Your new benefactor paid us quite nicely, so we aren't missing anything. Don't worry, I just wanted you to know I'd recieved the orders." 

Stretching, Pandora nodded. "So where am I stationed?"

"Bar anyway. You do make the better drinks." 

Grinning, she finished her coffee, then headed back out to the dressing room. Thankfully, it was full of familiar faces who gladly scooted over to make room for her to do her makeup. As much as she loved her fellow Honeygirls, she decided to wait til it emptied out a bit before she got changed, just to avoid too many questions and looks. Bruises like hers always came with curiosity, especially in a place like this, where she couldn't pass off belt strikes as falling over. She had signed that contract, after all, and intended on keeping to it. Full discretion had been promised, and for ten thousand gil, she was more than happy to comply. 

When the dressing room crowd had eased, and her makeup was setting, Pandora took one of her sets of striped bee lingerie out of her locker, changing quickly. If anyone had any questions, nothing was vocalised, for which she was exceptionally grateful. The lack of prying into one another's business was heavily appreciated. She was certain in other establishments, it wasn't like this. That any opportunity to one up someone would be taken. It had never been like that at the Honeybee. Relieved, Pandora swept her hair up into a loose ponytail, casual but classy, toed on her spare shoes, and headed out the door.

\---

The days passed in similar fashion; while Pandora didn't mind, she had to admit she was surprised not to have heard anything from Rufus. Of course, thanks to sheer irony, the day she thought about this, four (or was it five?) days after their meeting, was precisely the time he decided to call. Literally.   
Pandora had expected him to arrange something similar to their first meeting, use a middle man. At first, that was who she expected to speak to when her phone rang, the caller ID simply stating 'private'. She was incredibly surprised, then, to hear his voice, in the middle of the day, on her day off from the Inn. Perhaps that had been a deliberate choice?   
She had little time to ponder it, too surprised to hear from him personally.

"Pandora." His voice still sounded impossibly smooth and calm, even through the phone speaker. "Before you say anything, remember discretion is important. Therefore, feel free to forego any formality and simply use my name." 

That was easy enough for her, given she had been screaming it days before. However, she thought it prudent not to mention that, and instead, warily, spoke. 

"Rufus." 

"Don't sound so worried. I was just sorting through some papers on my desk and happened upon your contract. It got me thinking, and here we are." 

"What, you wanted to check up on me?" She was surprised. "You could have just sent one of your... friends." 

He laughed. "That would be quite impersonal, though, wouldn't it?" 

Pandora wasn't sure what about that was so amusing to him, but she found herself laughing too as she sat down on the bench outside the little apartment block she lived in. 

"I suppose it would be. So. What can I do for you?" She wasn't stupid, she knew there must be another reason behind his call. Did he want to plan their next meeting, perhaps? 

"I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself properly." His answer was simple enough; with her contract, his 'ownership', he would so hate if such a prized possession fell into disarray. 

"As well as I can be, I suppose." She swung her legs aimlessly, taking care not to knock her bruises too much. The materia she had purchased, as expected, had done little to help. The bruises still stung, faded only slightly. 

"You're still in pain?" 

She could almost picture him narrowing his eyes in annoyance. 

"A little. It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Did you not buy a healing materia?" Confusion filled his voice. 

"Well, the thing is, we don't exactly... Get things for that down here. The stuff we get is weak. It takes... dozens to heal things, sometimes." She pinched her nose between her thumb and forefinger, embarrassed at having to explain how shitty it could get in the undercity sometimes. 

There was a moment silence over the phone, then he spoke again.

"Are you eating well, at least?"

Pandora sighed. "Same answer, I guess. As well as I can be." 

Food quality wasn't awful in the slums, but the diet mostly consisted of things that were cheap and required little ingredients. Things that grew easily, like corn, potatoes, and tomatoes were easily in abundance. The choice they had topside was not familiar to her. 

Another pause. 

"It's really that bad down there, isn't it?" 

"It's..." Pandora felt odd, torn between wanting to speak her mind, and not wanting to offend him. He was Vice President, after all. He would probably take it as a personal affront. "Not so bad, when you get used to it." 

She could hear the sound of typing on the other side of the phone. 

"Can you get on a train topside?"

"What, now?"

"Yes, now. There should be one that goes up to Sector Five. Reno will be waiting with a car."

"Do you want me to change?"

"No, just wear what I sent you home in." He sighed, "how do you feel about something different?"

Pandora blinked in confusion, glad that she had, at least, washed the outfit he had gifted her. The question, however, confused her. 

"You- what?" There went all attempt at elocution. 

"For lunch."

"Lunch?" It dawned on her then, that he was not asking her to come and work. He was simply asking her to come and eat with him. That in itself was odd, and she was certain he would expect some sort of favor in return, but the temptation was too strong. Feeling particularly stupid, she stood up. 

"Yes, Pandora. The train, please. I'd rather not be kept waiting too long." 

Before she could argue, the line clicked dead. There went all hope of conversation. Tucking her phone into her purse, double checking her ID card, she headed to the train station. She supposed this must be one of the small luxuries he had promised in her contract. It seemed odd, to her, that he was being so generous after only one night, but, she supposed, maybe he wanted her to at least like him. Well. If he kept this up, she wouldn't have any complaints. 

\---

Pandora had always liked taking the train. She rarely had cause to, so the novelty was still there. Given the tunnels, there was little point in looking out the windows, so she played on her phone until they pulled into the topside station in Sector Five.   
The difference between stations amazed her. Whereas the one in the Sector Seven slums was shabby, the station in the upper plate was pristine. Walking out of the station building, she was surprised to see a few cars waiting to collect passengers. The upper plate was a completely different world to the slums below, and it showed.   
Just as she was getting a little overwhelmed, she noticed the tall, redhead Turk from the other day, waiting beside a shiny black motorcycle, grinning. 

It was funny, he could probably easily kill her, and she'd only met him once, but she trusted the redhead. He had seemed so at ease, even around Rufus, that she couldn't help but feel safe. That, and he had that slum boy attitude that she had grown up with. 

"Hey. Safe trip?" 

"Safer than the one I'm about to take, I assume," she grinned. 

He snorted. "Way less nervous this time. Good to see it."   
If he had heard anything during her last visit topside, he thankfully didn't mention it, just waited for her to climb onto the motorcycle behind him before speeding off through Sector Five. Pandora supposed they weren't going to the house this time, as it was in Sector One, and it turned out her thought was correct when they pulled up outside a fancy little cafe. 

"Go on in, I'll come back and drop you at the station after." The Turk waved her off. 

Hesitating, she headed towards the door. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that the cafe was empty, except for one table. Vaguely, Pandora wondered how much he must have paid to close the place just for them. Just for her. It seemed ridiculous to her, but she supposed it was nothing to him, to pay a place to close except for the Vice President. It made sense, too. If it was open to the public, there was little discretion. 

Heading over to the only occupied table, she slid into the chair opposite. It took a lot of nerve not to be intimidated by the variety of cutlery, not to mention the food laid out. Seriously? This place was deceptively fancy. 

"Hi." She had to admit, he looked good, even dressed in what she could only suppose counted as casual for him. Dress shirt in a deep shade of grey, almost black, and a silver tie that seemed almost violet in certain lights. She could only suppose he would have matching pants, and similar shoes to the other night. 

"You're in one piece, then." There was that wry smile she had seen once or twice before, "I should give Reno a pay rise for finally learning how to ride a motorcycle without endangering the passenger."

Pandora snorted. "To be fair, Mister Vice President, traffic was appalling. I doubt he could have sped even if he wanted to." 

To her absolute surprise, he laughed. It was a short sound, as though he wasn't used to laughing often, but it was genuine. 

"Ah, I'll tell him you said that." He set down his phone and observed her for a moment. "You look tired."

"I've been working." She cast her gaze down to the table. It wasn't the sort of lunch she was used to seeing; fresh croissants, sliced fruit in a bowl, iced white wine. It seemed like a tremendous expense to her, like everything he did for her. Pandora supposed she would have to get used to it. What seemed extravagent to her, clearly wasn't to him. How lucky he must feel, never having worried about money, a roof over his head... She envied him that shelter. 

"You've been overworking yourself." He corrected, pouring wine for them both. "After you told me about the materia problem in the slums, I did some reading. It turns out, you were right. Higher tier materia is harder to find in the undercity. Luckily, that isn't a problem up here." 

He slid a small box across the table. It, like his usual attire, was white, tied with a lavender ribbon. Curious, she took it, untied the ribbon.   
A single glance into the box told her the materia was expensive. High quality. The sort of thing that would heal her as soon as it made contact with her skin. 

"This is..."

"Military grade." He shrugged, "It should serve beyond your purpose, really, but I wanted to make sure you were well covered." 

Pandora stared at him. She couldn't imagine any scenario where she might need a brand new military grade healing materia, but what could she possibly say except thank you?

"You... I..." She stopped, touched the glittering amber orb, slid it into the slot on her bracelet, replacing the weaker one she had purchased in the slums. She could feel her bruises healing as she looked at him again. 

"Thank you. Really." 

"I didn't want you to suffer needlessly." He shrugged, held out his hand for the weaker materia. "Trade?" 

She handed it over, bemused. He examined it with mild interest. 

"Definitely not strong enough. I doubt it would help much more than minor scrapes." He slid it into the pocket of his slacks. A souvenier, though he'd never admit that. The cheap materia reminded him of her. Regardless of whether he was paying her to spend time with him, converse with him, fuck him, he wanted her to like him, at least.  
All professionalism, no interest, the mask he wore, slid back into place.

"You'll do much better with your new one. Now. Shall we eat?" 

Pandora nodded, the whiplash from almost humanity from him to the same disinterested demeanour confusing. She didn't want to puzzle it out too much, so instead she helped herself to a piece of a fruit she hadn't seen before. It was cubed, white, with tiny black seeds. 

"Dragonfruit." He caught her interested gaze, "I can't imagine it's something you'd find in the undercity."

"No," she agreed, trying the fruit. It had a mild flavor, not too sweet, not too sour. She liked it. 

"Say, can I ask you something?"

"You want to know why I'm investing money into buying you strong materia, fancy food, when you're just a working girl from the slums?" He raised an eyebrow. "It's simple. I told you, didn't I? I promised I would provide you with a good life, so long as you continue to please me. Thus far, I'm very pleased, and I imagine I'll continue to be pleased."

Pandora gave him a small smile, assuming. "Did you... would you like me to try and please you today?"

To her surprise, he shook his head.

"Not today, Pandora. We'll make arrangements for another time. Today is for you to heal, and eat well." It took great restraint for him to say as such. He wanted, truly, to take her into the bathroom and fuck her on the marble benchtop he knew was in there. The temptation was strong, but he feared pushing her away, hurting her before she had healed. 

"Another time, then." She beamed at him, took another piece of dragonfruit. She hadn't expected the lunch to come without strings, but she appreciated it, and the materia. Especially the materia. 

What could he say? He could be generous when he felt like it. He was often so alone. Having her around, even on his payroll, was something he appreciated. Just the companionship, and having someone to spend money on who truly appreciated it... 

He sighed. He couldn't allow her to get under his skin, although there was just something precious about the way she seemed so delighted by everything. Food he ate relatively regularly seemed incredible to her. That smile of hers... He could tell, somehow, it wasn't the sort of smile that came with the paycheck. It wasn't a superficial smile. The way it affected him, though? It scared him a little.   
Instead of worrying, though, he sipped his own wine, thinking, instead, of the next time he could call upon her for a less innocent meeting. That was the better way to deal with it, rather than overthinking. 

Pandora was oblivious to his thoughts; she knew this was more than likely a one off. She didn't expect a man like him to care beyond his own investment, and therefore considered his kindness superficial. Bait, perhaps, to get her to perform the way he wanted.   
She couldn't say she minded. If this kindness, this treatment, was false, she was happy to be a part of it. If she made him happy, played her role as he liked, and he wanted to shower her in luxuries? She didn't mind at all. It was a part of her job, part of the contract she had signed. She had had far less generous, far less kind clients before. She could handle the likes of Rufus Shinra, even if his almost wistful glance confused her. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what was behind that expression, if she wasn't simply imagining things.

How nice it would be, if this was a real date. If they cared about one another in a genuine fashion, rather than this being a part of a business transaction. She almost kicked herself. Now was not the time to get emotional, nor was he the right man to have that sort of thought about.   
Chalking it up to the effects of the strong materia, she drank her wine, tried the fruit he suggested, and tried not to think about how her smile was genuine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this, man, I really did. Filler chapters are hard. I'm trying to establish their relations with scenes that aren't just smutty. Please, leave feedback. I have no idea if I'm remotely doing this justice.


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pandora returns topside. She and Rufus internally give some insight to their relations.

In the weeks, then months, that followed, they seemed to come to an arrangement, or in the very least, find a routine. It was minimal, and at first Pandora seemed to simply have to bend to his will, but after a while, the routine seemed normal. He would call or text her, she would let Andrea know that she was needed, she would get on a train, and be met at the station by one of two Turks. 

She started to get used to her regular guards. Reno was easygoing and lazy, easy to get along with. After a while, she discovered that, once he was used to her presence, Rude wasn't so scary after all. He just preferred silence, and that was okay. Sometimes, she just didn't feel like making conversation, so she appreciated his calm professionalism. It made the drive from the station to the house far less awkward. Reno, on the other hand, talked her ear off about the upper city, promising he'd take her to some of the cooler places around the upper plates one day, whenever Rufus wanted her to shop for new things. 

As far as having a bodyguard went, Reno was her favourite, but only because he lacked any sort of seriousness. She supposed if it came down to it, he must be exceptional at his job, but she just couldn't picture it. He was too much of a lazy person. Still, she found herself glad for his friendship, wanting some semblance of normality about the whole thing, especially when Rufus was so unpredictable. One day he would be almost friendly, as if they had a real rapport between them. Others, he would be cold and distant. It stressed her out, if she was honest, but the pay was good enough that she tried not to mind too much. 

The thing was, she simply didn't want to admit that his mood affected hers. That would be dangerously close to admitting that she actually cared about how Rufus Shinra felt, which was a monumentally stupid idea. Pandora was entirely certain that she was nothing more than a business transaction to him. Albeit a business transaction that he enjoyed, but more of an object than a person with her own thoughts and feelings. She would prefer to keep it that way. Losing such a prime, once in a lifetime job, just because she couldn't keep her emotions in check? She would never forgive herself. 

With that inner turmoil buried, she sighed and slid her feet into the expensive shoes waiting in the car for her. She had changed her clothes at the station, in one of the bathrooms. From sweats and a plain shirt into denim shorts and a soft knitted tank. The shoes were the sort she had seen on the television once or twice, black with a red underside. Impossible to walk in, if she hadn't had a lot of practice in heels. 

By the usual standard, she looked quite casual, or so she thought. It seemed odd, but perhaps she would have drawn more attention in something excessive. She couldn't say she minded, much preferring this more casual style than the dress he had had her wear the first time. She supposed that had mostly been about making an impression. Pandora rather thought she did a good job of sitting, staying, and fetching at Rufus' demand. Perhaps that was why he had lightened up on the dress code a little. 

She didn't have long to ponder the situation or her dress code. Before too long, the car was sliding to a halt in the curved driveway. To her surprise, Rufus was waiting on the porch, leaning against one of the marble pillars. To further the surprise of the situation, he was dressed down, for him, in just shirt and tie with slacks. No overcoat or waistcoat. A cigarette dangled between long fingers, smoke drifting towards the car and reaching her faintly as she stepped out of the vehicle. 

"Hi." She wasn't exactly sure how else to greet him. Their relationship changed seemingly each time she saw him, not always for the better or worse. It was impossible to gauge what sort of mood he would be in. 

"Hello." He dropped the remains of the cigarette, stepping on it with the toe of his shoe. Turning, he gestured that they should head inside. Wordless, she followed him, trusting Reno or Rude to close the door behind them as they headed up to the first floor.   
She had begun to get used to the layout of the house, or at least the upper floor anyway. Perhaps it was stupid, but she felt safe there. 

Ever since their lunch date, Pandora had been forced to consider that perhaps there was some humanity to Rufus after all. His gifted Materia remained firmly in pride of place in her bracelet, keeping her strong and healed regardless of what they did in their scenes together. Of course, she probably didn't need it all the time, but she liked to keep it on her. Nobody had ever given her such an expensive, practical gift before. She appreciated it, and him, more than she was willing to admit. 

Pandora had no way of knowing this, but he kept her cheap Materia on him, too. Naturally he had his own military grade for his personal use, but there was something comforting about keeping the cheap little orb tucked in the pocket of his waistcoat. Even if it was all just for show, him paying her to be kind to him, she truly gave off the impression of being genuinely kind, and having a little piece of her that wasn't lewd related was extremely calming to him. It was for that reason that he had called her to him that night. His growing emotional state regarding the dark haired slum girl concerned him. Tonight, he would remind himself that she was simply supposed to be an amusement to him. A passing fancy, a girl paid to please him. 

It would be easier, so much easier, if she thought him cold and uncaring. Saying that, Rufus supposed that she had a certain level of professionalism. Surely she wouldn't entertain such soft thoughts about him, a client, and here he was, softening on her. If she knew, she would probably laugh at him.   
Don't fall for whores. It was the oldest lesson in the book. 

He tossed his cigarette packet onto his desk as they passed through the receiving room into the apartment proper. It was a terrible habit he had hoped to kick. Hopefully, Reno would pilfer the remnants of the packet and leave him tobaccoless. Rufus did not wish to emulate his father's heavy smoking habit. 

Without glancing back - he knew she was following, like an obedient little pet - he made his way into the bedroom, toeing off shoes as he went. His tie followed, unknotted and cast aside. That in itself was significantly different. He was usually so adamant about tying her hands, but not tonight. He wanted her to touch him. Whether so he could be reminded of what she was, or so he could pretend she loved him, he wasn't sure. 

Pandora undressed at a speed matching the blonde. She had become more casual with him, no longer putting on the air of mystery and seduction. They knew each other's bodies well, she knew he wanted her regardless, and it was nice not to have to act all the time.   
It scared her, a little, how at home she had become with him in such a short time. It should, perhaps, have scared her more that at some moments, she could swear he looked and spoke to her as if she were a lover. But then again, she was entirely convinced that she was simply having wishful thoughts. 

This was why she was here. This moment. Right now. Regardless of what she might wish, practicality, or rather the reality of her world, simply dictated that Vice Presidents of enormous corporations did not harbor secret feelings for undercity whores. 

If only she knew. 

His lack of binding her hands, however, did not go unnoticed. A slight thrill ran through her body at the realisation that for the first time in months, he would allow her to touch him in this manner.   
Of course, they had kissed. He enjoyed her sitting in his lap sometimes while he read a report or two, occasionally kissing her or rubbing circles on her thighs. A welcome distraction.   
But he had never, ever, so far, allowed her to touch him during sexual intimacy. 

Pandora recognised the trust that she was being gifted with, and swore, silently, that she would cherish it and be careful.   
Sans clothes, she turned her attention to him. He, too, was naked, sitting with open arms on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.   
This was new, too, but she wouldn't question it. Perhaps sometimes even he needed to feel intimate beyond domination and complete control.   
Without hesitation, she went to him, crawled into his waiting lap and molded her mouth to his. She was careful not to put too much emotion into the kiss. A lot could be silently communicated in that manner, and unbeknownst to the other, each party was intent on hiding their true emotions. 

Without breaking their embrace, they moved in practised sync, she shifting to allow him to guide himself inside her, a low growl of approval tearing from deep in his throat at the sudden warmth and wetness sheathing him.   
Pandora broke the kiss to exhale, settle herself down onto him with a little sigh of appreciation.   
Undeterred, his mouth moved to her neck, her collarbones, leaving trails of kisses and soft bites in his wake. 

Usually, her hands were bound. All she could do was loop them around his neck and hold on when he felt like this position. It was strange, and exciting, almost liberating, to realise she could run her fingers up his chest, trailing every little scar and muscle, the odd freckle on otherwise perfect porcelain skin... 

"Mine." His teeth sank into her collarbone, punctuated by a slow, sharp upwards snap of his hips. Her moan of assent rang through the lavish bedroom. Yes. She was his. And if she was his, did that make him hers? Perhaps it was the sudden dopamine rush, the proximity of him, the overpowering, wonderful intoxicant of his cologne. Either way her thoughts ran freely in that moment, and for the briefest second, Pandora allowed herself to pretend that he was hers. 

She nuzzled her face into his shoulder, rolling her hips to meet each thrust of his. He was spoiling her, knowing this position was one of her favourites, one he liked too when he didn't prefer having someone on all fours.   
She loved the scent of him, the cologne he used. Often she wished her own bed smelled like him; she would sleep better at home if it did.   
How horrifically embarrassing that would be, if he could read her mind.   
Thankfully, he could not, and both remained blissfully unaware of the other's thoughts. 

Rufus enjoyed the blissful look on her face for more than he would let on. He was not, by any means, a selfish lover, despite having the air of someone who might be.   
Keeping her firmly held in his arms, he moved them, setting her down and pinning her beneath him. She gave a little moan of approval at the change. Missionary seemed almost too plain to him, usually, but he wanted to see the look on her face when he brought her release.   
When, he wondered, had he started giving a damn about things like that? Perhaps, he supposed, the moment he had kept her old Materia as a little token to remind him of her wherever he went. 

He would have liked her to stay with him full time, but it seemed like a fool's wish. He was convinced that she was simply doing her job, and doing it well, even if he had caught her soft, hastily averted gazes more than once. It simply didn't seem possible to him that someone like her - poor, humble, but kind - could remotely hold any sort of love for a man as cold and calculated as he. 

Her hands, so hesitant, ran up his arms, gently, waiting for permission. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Curiosity outweighed his dominant character.   
He was startled, then almost instantly soothed, when her fingers trailed through his hair. 

How long had Pandora wanted to run her fingers through his hair for? Too long, now she really thought about it. The wait was worth it. His hair was, unexpectedly, perfectly soft, well cared for. She had seen him style it into place carefully in mornings, wondered whether it would be spiky and full of product. Apparently not.   
The different texture pleasantly surprised her, but then again it made sense that he wouldn't clog his hair with product. All the better to look effortlessly perfect.   
He demanded her attention again in silence, moving roughly against her. A sharp gasp fell from her lips, eyes glinting with delight. A smug smirk overtook his features. He so adored provoking such a reaction from her, even if that was something he didn't wish to disclose just yet. Either way, his attention grabbing swiftly ended any wandering thoughts for both parties. 

After, he held her close to him, enjoying the pretense of something more between them. Now, then, seemed like the perfect time to hand over the gift he had purchased for her. She didn't seem surprised when he moved from her side, moreso when he returned with the small flat box that he handed over with a small smile. 

"Another gift?" Pandora was surprised. She supposed it wasn't materia this time, given the shape of the box. What, then? Curiosity overtook her, and she slid the lid off.   
Her jaw dropped.   
The chain was gold, thin but with a definite air of unbreakable. Hanging from it was a singular teardrop diamond. The chain was long enough that she could conceal it beneath her clothes. 

"I thought you might like something you could take with you. I don't like the idea that you leave everything I give you here, although of course it's necessary." 

She blinked at him. "This... must have cost a million gil..."

Rufus waved a hand. Ten million, if he was honest, but she definitely didn't need to know that. Nor did she need to know that it was part of a set. That would be wishful thinking on his own part. 

"Do you like it?"

She nodded, overwhelmed, hair falling in her face and obscuring part of her face. The materia had been priceless to her. Something like this, a clearly expensive, entirely non-practical gift, took her by surprise. In a way, it made her realise that, in some small way, she must have meaning to him. 

"Yes... Thank you... It's beautiful..." Pandora turned the box in her hands, admiring the diamond's shine.

He held out his hand. She passed it over immediately.

"Let me?" 

She leaned forward, pulling her hair out the way so he could secure the gold chain around her throat. The diamond nestled snugly in her cleavage, out of sight, but she would know it was there.

"I won't take it off. Promise." Her voice was a little constricted; she was amazed that someone like him thought her worthy of such a gift.

He watched her, amused and a little touched. He hadn't expected her to respond so emotionally, but it made the investment all the more worth it, particularly when she wrapped her arms around his waist and settled back beside him. Perhaps, then, for a little longer, he could pretend she loved him.

If only, he thought, stroking her hair and waiting for her to fall asleep. If only she did. If only he were free from his father's rule. Perhaps, then, things could be different. Assuming, of course, that she felt something for him. She must. Her reaction to the diamond was not one of an employee being presented with a bonus. It clearly meant something to her. Perhaps, then, he hoped, he did too, and one day, they would be free to pursue it.


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pandora reminisces on her past. Rufus reflects on his feelings. Conflict between Avalanche and Shinra Corp hits a peak.

INTERLUDE

Shortly after Pandora was gifted the teardrop diamond, the conflict between the Shinra company and the organisation known as Avalanche began to become more volatile. Although she had little to nothing to do with either party, the disruption to the train services made it a little more difficult for Pandora and Rufus to see each other. To her surprise, though, he often sent her a text message or two, asking how she was doing, if she was safe. Although unexpected, she found that she appreciated his efforts to communicate with her. Curiously, she found herself missing him. Being alone again, with only work to distract her, allowed old memories to creep in, unwanted, like a poisonous fog that enveloped her. 

What, she wondered, would Rufus think if he knew she had once been a lab rat for his father's company? Would it bother him? She hoped not, but there was no telling. The memories of the two years spent in Project Lilith left a sour taste in her mouth, not to mention all that had happened after. Or perhaps because of it was a better term. Pandora wasn't sure, only knew that the memories were flooding back in now she was working at the Honeybee less, with less distraction. It gave her far too much time to reminisce.

At sixteen years old, freshly orphaned from the brutal war with Wutai, she had signed up for a controversial project. Let's see if we can make female SOLDIERs, they had said. They would be cared for, well fed, given medical support... At the time it had seemed like the perfect opportunity for some glory, for survival. It had turned into two years of endless cycles of training, experiments, and mako exposure.

They never had successfully created a female SOLDIER. Something about testosterone binding to mako exposure better than estrogen. Pandora wasn't a scientist, never had been or would be. She had simply done what was demanded of her, with no place to go otherwise. She had seen a dozen other women either flunk out in physical exams or succumb to mako poisoning. By the time Project Lilith was decommissioned, officially labelled a write off, there had been only a handful of them left.

She wished she knew whether any of her fellow test subjects were still alive. She had signed an NDA, the reason why she hadn't been too freaked out by the one Rufus had presented her with when he had first hired her. Part of the condition was that she wasn't to try and contact any other former test subjects. If she gave thought to it, truly, she doubted anyone had survived. Her survival had baffled the science team. She should have gotten mako poisoning. Should have died from the exposure. Instead it seemed to have simply been absorbed, leaving her with the trademark mako eyes of a SOLDIER with none of the power.

She was certain some of the scientists at Shinra would be itching to work out why, but really she had no clue. It was luck, surely, she supposed, that had spared her. She would have loved to know if anyone else had survived, but she doubted it.

It was not necessarily the memories of Project Lilith that haunted her the most, but the memories of her first love. He had been a SOLDIER, their meeting entirely by chance. She had been young, foolish, and believed that they would have a fairytale life together. Poor naive Pandora, her hopes and dreams destroyed at the young age of nineteen, when mere days after she had received the news of his death, she had woken in a pool of her own blood, her body rejecting the child that would have been the only living link she had to Angeal. Poor, sweet Angeal, who had loved her so. Who had treated the boy he called puppy as somewhere between a brother and a son. How long had it been, now? Almost five years, she was certain, and sometimes, when she was alone with nothing else to distract her, she thought about him still. The life they could have had. 

Recently, she had been feeling almost guilty, for allowing herself to even consider that she might have feelings for her employer. It seemed like a betrayal to Angeal's memory, though she was certain he would want her to move on. It was a gut feeling, and yet it did little to quell her nerves.   
The lack of available transport to take her topside simply made things worse. With too much idle time on her hands, she found herself overthinking. 

It was for that reason that she was exceptionally glad to receive a call from Andrea. One of the bar girls had called in sick, could she possibly cover for the night?   
Yes. Yes she absolutely could. Anything to get her out of her apartment in Sector Seven and into a social situation to take her mind off of things. 

She was so distracted as she headed over to Wall Market that she paid no mind to a growing rabble starting over by the train station.. 

\---

Rufus had had a long day. A very long day. He would have liked nothing more than to send a car down one of the service tunnels to find Pandora and bring her topside to stay with him. The growing unrest between the company and Avalanche was making him nervous, not for himself but for her safety down in the undercity. 

Coupled with the fact that Reno and Rude had been called away on urgent presidential business, he was particularly bored and agitated. What could possibly be so fucking important that his father had called away their best operatives? 

Sighing, entirely irritated by the entire mess, he retired to the couch, pausing only to pour himself a generous glass of whiskey and whistle to his military hound, Dark Nation.   
It had been his intention to watch the news, propaganda really, finish his drink then sulk his way to bed. He certainly became more surly without the company of Pandora or the Turks. 

Naturally, things did not turn out that way at all. It took him a moment to register precisely what he was seeing on the screen, to process the words rolling across the breaking news banner. 

The crystal glass slid from his grasp, liquid staining the carpet, his eyes glued to the scene of impossible destruction and carnage lain out before him. He had heard whispers from the Turks, of course, but he never, ever possibly suspected that his father would go ahead with dropping an entire plate onto the undercity. Tens of thousands would have died, the survivors left homeless and wounded. There would be nothing left of Sector Seven.. 

Sector Seven. 

"Oh, fuck..." 

It was a strained sound, almost whispered, as he blindly fished for his phone in his suit jacket pocket, and pressed a button he had recently set to speed dial. 

He was greeted with the grim, depressing sound of disconnection. Meanwhile, on his television screen, and a hundred feet below him, Sector Seven burned. 

\---

The ash and smoke from Sector Seven carried over into Wall Market. They had, at first, thought it was an earthquake, and after the briefest pause, continued their business as usual. 

Then the screaming had started. 

Pandora had thrown on her coat over her work dress, and, alongside girls still in their Honeybee lingerie, Andrea and plenty of concerned patrons, they had poured out into the streets to find a hole in the artificial sky and a steady stream of terrified refugees pouring through the back alleyways between Sectors. 

Some had been injured mildly, some heavily. Some carried children, cats, small bags of precious belongings. Others supported wounded friends or neighbours. Some simply wandered in, dazed and shellshocked. 

It reminded Pandora of the war, of the fighting and bombings that had killed her parents and dozens of others at the university they taught at. Perhaps, then, that was why she seemed to switch into a calm demeanour. 

"Andrea." she turned to the Inn owner, "can we provide shelter? The private rooms. We could shelter families. The elderly?" 

He seemed just as shocked and horrified as she was, nodded. 

"Yes. Yes, we can do that." 

Perhaps word spread, because soon, other business owners were offering food, water, shelter to the increasing number of survivors from Sector Seven. Chocobo Sam offered his creatures to transport the wounded to the hospital over in Sector Two, a makeshift triage space set up outside. 

They worked into the night, through to the dawn, cleaning scrapes and burns, pooling Materia for more serious problems. The worst case Pandora saw was a small child with a horribly burned leg, impossible to heal without serious Materia. She knew it might break her NDA, but she couldn't possibly leave a child to suffer. She unclipped her Materia bracelet, pressed it into the crying child's hands, and waited. 

Rufus had not sold her short. Determination refreshed, she went from bed to bed, disinfecting and passing around her bracelet, the military grade healing materia working its magic. 

The sun was rising, the real sun, visible through the newly created hole in the sky, hazy from smoke, by the time she was done, leaning against a wall, dozing.   
Andrea poked her awake. 

"You need to sleep." 

"People need my Materia." she countered. 

"Not anymore. You got to everyone who was desperate. We can handle the stragglers with regular. You need to sleep. Go call your mister topside."

Andrea gave her a significant look. Inadvertently, Rufus' gift had saved dozens of lives. Pandora should thank him. She understood that. She realised he might also, perhaps, be worried about her. 

A glance to her phone made her sigh. 

"Phone lines are down." 

The significance was not lost on her. There was no way to communicate with anyone over a phone. They couldn't contact the hospitals. And she couldn't contact Rufus... 

Was he worried? She wondered if he was. Perhaps he had known about the plate drop. He was vice president, surely he must have? 

Anger at her employer surged, washed over her harsh enough to make her double over and gag.   
He was always so kind to her. Treated her like a person. She had almost hoped he might love her. How, then, could he possibly have agreed to such a violent mass murder? It made no sense to her. Perhaps it was just business to him. Perhaps the people of the slums were no more people to him than a lizard or an insect... 

The thought that the man she had begun to care for could possibly be so cruel, so cold, made her shudder. Surely there was another explanation? She would find a way to contact him. He would tell her the truth, wouldn't he? Would he?   
Who was she, really? A girl from the slums. A whore. A nobody. He owed her nothing. 

The revelation that he could truly be monstrous scared her, but not as much as the thought that followed.   
Even if he had been involved, she realised, it would change nothing. She would continue to take whatever he gave her. A job. Scraps of affection. All in the hope that one day he might love her the way she had come to love him. 

The admittance, even to herself, grounded her, her fingers tracing the outline of the diamond necklace chain around her neck.   
She just needed to wait for communication to come back up. She would find the truth then. 

\---

Rufus paced, waiting. After his failed call to Sector Seven, he had taken to his bed with a fresh glass of liquor, fallen into an uneasy sleep. 

While, unbeknownst to him, Pandora lived and used his gift to save lives through the night, he slept, and awoke with a vicious resolve. 

His head Turk had picked up on the first ring. 

"I need the three of you. And the chopper." 

His words had been clipped. Murderously calm, he paced the apartment, loading and unloading his heavy shotgun while Dark Nation paced behind him, nervous.   
The Turks would, above all, obey him without question. He had grown up with Reno and Tseng. They were the closest to friends he had. Loyal. And they would help him carry out his rage with blind duty. 

The morning news had the damage and death toll beyond words. Beyond repair. With the phone lines out, and in the chaos, there had been no way of locating Pandora. Tseng had been preoccupied with the capture of the Cetra girl, Reno and Rude horrified by the order they had been forced to carry out. 

He had hated his father since he was a boy. The old man was cruel, unusually so, enjoyed bribery and force to control those that surrounded him. Had built a comfortable little empire that Rufus had already attempted to topple once, leading to his exile in this magnificent, comfortable terraced house. 

He had almost decided to let bygones be bygones, see where the old man let things go. Any idea of that left his mind when he pictured the scenes from the television, screaming children, charred corpses, rubble and flames everywhere. 

Pandora could be among them. The girl he had simply wanted to pay to avoid complications, only to find himself knee deep in the greatest complication of all. He had not intended to develop any sort of concern or feelings for the girl, and yet, here he was. 

It had started with that damned Materia, a concern for her welfare. Then with more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her around, sitting in his lap while he worked, laughing at his stories, sipping wine and lounging in his bed.   
She had become more than simply an object to him, and the idea of losing her was unacceptable to him. 

The thought that his father may have inadvertently taken her from him filled him with a rage that would not be quelled without violence.   
His heart demanded blood. As he heard the sound of a car, Tseng calling up the stairs that the others were waiting on standby with the chopper, his fingers tightened on his weapon, on Nation's chain. 

He would have blood. His father would pay. He would tear this entire fucking world apart to find her, if there was even the slimmest chance she had survived. And when he found her? He would never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spite is fuelling this at the moment. Spite and a lot of love for these two. If you love them too, maybe drop me a line? Thanks for reading so far!


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our main duo reunite.

The days that followed were chaotic. Denied his revenge, Rufus instead threw himself into his new role as President of the Shinra Electric Power Company.

Resuming transport and telecommunications became his priority behind all necessary work. Finally, three days after the plate fell, he was able to dial through to Pandora's phone.

"Hello?"

She sounded terrible, her voice hoarse. If he could see her, he would be horrified. Her skin was mucky with ash and grime, her hair ratty and pulled off her face with a piece of string. Ash and mud caked under her nails from digging efforts to find survivors. But hundreds of feet below him, in the slums of Sector Seven, or what remained of them, Pandora Kincaid clung to her phone like it was a life ring.

"Pandora?" he dared ask, risking sounding like a complete idiot. 

"Rufus?" her voice was a hoarse whisper, "Is it you? I thought you'd..."

"Forgotten about you?" he guessed. Her silence was all he needed to know.

"The phones were down, I've been trying to call you since that bastard dropped the fucking plate."

He took a deep breath. She had never heard him curse outside of the bedroom. Not like this.

"You didn't... -?"

"I had no idea." He admitted miserably, "I wish I could have stopped him... I went to kill him, but someone beat me to it. Avalanche. Doing me a solid, for once." he sounded bitter, not because of the death of the father he had despised, but because he had been robbed of the kill himself.

"I'm sorry."

She sounded so lost. So miserable. What must it be like down there? A war zone, he suspected. And he had left her, his most precious treasure, down in the thick of it.

"I should be apologising to you. Can you get a train? I can send someone to get you from the station."

He would send Reno. She always seemed at ease with him.

"I... Of course. I'm just finishing up here."

She had been serving food to those staying at the Honeybee.

"Stop by the house first, take a bath, get changed. Reno will bring you to HQ after." Rufus knew that hot water access was limited in the slums as it was. With the disaster, it would be even worse.

"Alright.." she sounded so lost. 

"Pandora?"

"Yes?"

"Everything will be alright. I promise." He hoped it was not an empty promise. He would do what he could, anything in his power, to make this right. 

"I'll see you soon..." she disconnected the call, leaving him to wait.

\---

She was escorted to his door, same as always, by one of his suited Turks, who briefly nodded to Rufus as she entered his place. The blond smiled at her, nodding to the guard and dismissing him, closing the door and already striding back along the hallway.

"Impeccable timing, as usual." he seemed almost under dressed without his excessive overcoat, suit jacket and lapel pins. She had to hurry to follow.

By the time she caught up with him, he was already pouring whiskey from a crystal decanter, two glasses, sliding one across the fine glass table to her.

"Well, you know what they say… Couldn't keep you waiting." Her accent was pronounced, the way she said some words heavier than others, some letters dropped.

He had never particularly cared about her elocution. Liked that she was something other than the upper class he was so used to being surrounded by.

"I appreciate your timekeeping. I hear it's still difficult to get a train from the slums."

He patted the couch beside him; she moved to sit beside him, a swish of silk as she walked.

"It's… Yes. A little difficult."

He frowned.

"I'll see what I can do about getting them back on schedule."

"If I can… Even if the trains start up properly again, a lot of people will be too scared and too sick to go back to work." she chewed her lip, took a sip of the cold liquor. It was the harsh kind, the sort that they kept on the top shelf at the Honeybee. Barely any customer beyond the Turks could afford it.

" You're right.. What a complete mess my dear father left us with…" he took a drink from his own glass, an expression of mild discontent on his face, "but luckily an excellent taste in liquor."

She managed to crack a small smile.

"I imagine so."

"Don't worry, between us and my Turks, I'm sure we'll make a dent in his liquor cabinet before all this mess is sorted." Rufus seemed resigned as he spoke. He had not expected to inherit the Shinra Electric Power Company with one sector of the city of Midgar destroyed, tens of thousands dead, and one hell of a rebuild on his hands.

He supposed it was a fair penance.

" Is that why you asked me to come so late? To drink?" she twisted a strand of hair between her fingers, surveying the amber liquid in her glass.

"Not just to drink."

At her questioning look, he sighed, and she noticed the slightly dark circles under his eyes.

"I couldn't sleep." He admitted finally, "and I knew you'd be awake, working…"

His generous, anonymous donations to the Honeybee Inn kept her off Corneo's radar, and ensured Andrea would overlook her sometimes days-long absences.

"I got the last train out as soon as you called."

He never called so late, so urgently. What choice had she had? She had almost been worried.

"I didn't want to be here alone. I needed a distraction."

"You could have called Reno?" Pandora knew that he and the Turk were almost friends. Maybe they could have played cards. Rufus had once commented that Reno was the only one with the balls to call him out on counting cards. It had amused him. He was fond of the redhead, she was sure.

"Not the same sort of distraction I needed." he frowned, finished his drink in a single long gulp, moving to pour another.

"Well why don't you tell me about it?" she suggested. He set the decanter down without pouring.

"Later." he agreed, "come closer."

She scooted over into his lap, which was secretly her favorite place to sit. He was so powerful, had been even before he was President. She loved the fact that he liked her sitting in his lap like any ordinary man.

"Much better." He almost relaxed with her in his arms. Almost.

"Rufus?"

Confusion filled her tone, her unusual mako eyes glinting as she looked at him, watched him light a cigar. 

There was no way this man had been responsible for the plate drop disaster. He had been willing to murder his own father, that was how abhorrent he had found it all.

What, then, was plaguing his mind?

"I thought he'd taken you from me." He said finally, letting the cigar drop into the ashtray, unsmoked.

"You... What?" she cursed her in eloquence at such a time, but his words had stunned her.

"When he dropped the plate. I thought you might have been at home... I couldn't contact you... I thought you were dead."

"And that's... Why you wanted to kill him?" Pandora made sure she was hearing this correctly. It sounded like... 

"I wanted him dead for a long time," he admitted, "but that... Thinking he had taken you from me... I saw red."

"I was working..." she told him softly, "I was lucky. So many others weren't... What makes me so different?" 

She knew. She hoped she knew. But she wanted to hear him say it. 

"Tell me I haven't been a complete fool." 

"In what way?" 

"Tell me I haven't gone and fallen for you when I'm just a client." 

She laughed then, half nervous, half melody. 

"You could never be just a client. You're the president of the Shinra Electric Power Company. You were never just a client from day one." 

"You know what I mean." He almost growled at her, unamused by her teasing. 

"Oh, Rufus," she shook her head, "I've loved you since you let me touch you the third time you fucked me. Since you gave me a Materia to protect myself. Will continue to love you even through this disaster that killed so many people like me..." 

The admission shocked her. Shocked them both. She was not usually this candid, and yet. Here they were. All or nothing. 

To her surprise, he smiled. A true smile, one she had barely seen before. 

"You know, I tried to deny it to myself for so long. But I think I must have loved you from the moment I asked you to come visit me for lunch. I couldn't bear the thought of you hungry, or unwell." He chewed his lip, suddenly nervous, which felt ridiculous to him. He was the most powerful man in the city, and he was afraid of this small, soft woman in his arms. Afraid of her rejection. 

"I don't want to be apart from you, Pandora. I'll do what I can to help the people... But I don't want to let you go again." 

"What are you asking?" 

Was he even asking? She wasn't sure. 

"Come stay with me. Please. Let me keep you safe. Let me try and make you happy." 

She laughed again. 

"You already make me happy, Rufus. But if you want me to come and live with you, I will. I'd like that. A lot."

He tilted his head. 

"To be clear, you know I mean as a lover? A girlfriend. Not an employee. Not a... Courtesan." 

She surprised them both, leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. 

"I know what you mean." 

His hands cupped her face, drew her into a long, desperate kiss. He had wanted to kiss her from the moment she had walked in, alive and well. Dressed and cleaned up but worn down. A survivor. A woman who could take care of herself, but he still desperately wanted to protect and shower in love. He just hadn't been sure whether it would be reciprocated. Somewhere in the chaos, he had become unable to simply see her as a possession, but someone he wanted as an equal. 

"I promise I'll make this right, Dora..." the pet name fell easily from his lips. Naturally. Nobody had given her a pet name before. She found she quite liked it. 

Her heart hurt for the people of the slums. For the pain his father, his company, had inflicted. But she loved him. Trusted him. Would do her best to hold him to his word. Hold the company accountable for the suffering inflicted. 

"I know you will." her hand stroked his hair, her head resting on his shoulder. 

She would move topside to live with him, this man she loved, but she would not allow her people in the undercity to be forgotten. Even in her haze of love, in the joy of having her feelings returned, the thrill of him wanting her to live with him. She had a duty to her common people, and she would not let them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two shorter chapters mean the next four will be super long, promise. Hold me to it.


	7. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pandora moves topside to live with Rufus, who refuses to allow them to be parted again. While he assumes control of the company, she settles into her new role as his girlfriend.

Pandora saw it as a mixed bag, the fact that her home in Sector Seven had been destroyed. On one hand, the place had been miserable, and now she was spared the embarrassing task of packing anything she might want to bring topside. The other, of course, being that the plate drop and ensuing blasts and fires had killed thousands, and left her without a single trace of her old life. She felt privileged, and guilty, when Rufus sat her down at his computer and told her to purchase an entire new wardrobe of clothes for herself.

She had brought nothing but the clothes on her back, his diamond necklace, and her Materia bracelet, and while she knew money wasn't an issue for him, she still felt awful for bringing nothing but herself to their new relationship.  
Admittedly that didn't stop her from having a great time browsing through the clothes on the online store, choosing things at his recommendation and to suit her own tastes. She knew that as the new President, all eyes would be on Rufus, and as his girlfriend, she had to uphold a certain standard. That didn't bother her so much. She could dress the part. She was just more concerned that he might think that she was simply there for his money after all.

It got so bad after a while, her nails chewed down to little stubs while she scrolled and watched the cart total go up, that she turned to him and simply expressed how she felt.

"You know, I don't really need all this..."

He was sitting in an armchair, reading something or another. A damage report, most likely. At her comment, he looked up, sighed. As if he had been expecting this very conversation. Knowing Rufus, he probably had. He knew money was very low on the list of priorities to her where he was concerned.

"You don't exactly have many clothes, do you? The vast majority of your limited wardrobe isn't remotely appropriate for public display." He said, unblinking.

He was, of course, correct. Silk dresses, beautiful lingerie and robes, killer heels, no matter how well they suited her, were not acceptable daily attire.  
They were to be enjoyed in his - their, now - bedroom, but he had no interest in parading her around like a little show dog. He had far too much respect for her to do that, to degrade her in such a manner. If it weren't for the fact that he worried she might think he was ashamed of her, he wouldn't let the public eye see her.

Pandora hated that he was right. Of course he was. She had so little to wear, most of it inappropriate outside extravagant settings or the bedroom. The clothes were a necessity, but still, she loathed feeling this way. She had enjoyed her dependence on him when it had been for luxuries, gifts and her paycheck for a job. But now she was his girlfriend and he was simply giving things to her. She wasn't used to it, and growing up poor had not prepared her in the slightest. Her parents had been scholars, not wealthy in the slightest when it came to gil. They had been kind, and good, and taught her a great deal. But they had not been rich. Nothing could have prepared her for Rufus, though. He was wealthy beyond wealthy. The CEO of the most powerful corporate force on the planet.

If she knew the true cost of her diamond necklace, she might have been horrified, objected furiously. She didn't ask, and he didn't tell.

"I don't want you to think -" she started, but he held up a hand. 

"Pandora. Clothes are an essential. For gods sake, I know it's not about money. Do you think for one moment that I would love you if you simply wanted money?" 

She had hurt his feelings, she realised, by assuming that he would think so poorly of her. 

"I know what you did in the slums. You aren't a material person. I gave you a Materia to protect you, and you went around helping anyone and everyone who needed it. That tells me enough to know that you're not some money hungry liar." 

He sighed, set down his papers and crossed to her, squeezing her arm in reassurance. 

"So please, just buy the damn clothes, Dora." 

There was the pet name again, the assurance that he wasn't truly cross with her, just wanted her to understand that it was alright for her to spend, what was comparatively, a very small portion of his vast fortune on an essential like clothing.   
Pandora found it impossible to argue with him, and went back to her task. Satisfied, he returned to his seat and his papers. 

If he was insistent, Pandora wasn't going to argue. She had learned a while back that there was absolutely no point in arguing with Rufus when his mind was made up, especially on things like this. Humbled, she processed the order of clothes to be delivered the next day. At least now she could wear something other than pajamas. Silk was comfortable, but absolutely not suited for any sort of visitors, and it made her feel as if she were still simply an employee. She had no intention of being a trophy; she was one or the other, employee or girlfriend. As much as she loved him, she made that clear flat out. 

If anything, he was glad for it. He hadn't wanted her to simply be a little trophy for him to come home to each day. He was glad that he felt as though he could tell her things. Glad to come home and feel wanted, loved. Like he was actually important outside of his money and influence, both of which Pandora seemed to have minimal interest in.   
She didn't care if he was rich, didn't care what sort of power he wielded. She was simply there, there for him. Even though she had been born and raised in the undercity. Felt loyalty to the people of the slums. She was still there with him, instead of down there in the ruins. 

He wasn't stupid, knew how much it pained her to have left that all behind. One day, when she was ready, he would gladly listen to her advice and ask her to head her own project, if she felt like it. 

For now, he was simply trying to keep the company afloat. The death of his father, the plate drop and slum destruction, the theft and loss of multiple supposedly priceless artefacts from the laboratories...   
It had all piled up. Despite his best efforts, Rufus had to admit his inheritance of the company had come at an absolutely abysmal time. 

He was grateful, so very, very grateful, to have the loyalty of the Turks, and of course Pandora, he beloved. He was a cold man, proud, but not above showing his affection in private. Without them, he would have been desolate and alone, perhaps as closed off to feeling as his father had become, consumed by greed and cruelty. The loss of his mother had made him even more so.   
He would not make the same mistakes, would not allow anything to befall Pandora, would keep her safe. 

She knew he worried about her safety, of course, and personally found it endearing. Nobody had cared about her safety in a very long time, and even then, Angeal had often over estimated her. It had still come as a surprise when Rufus had given her a handgun to keep on her at all times, nonetheless. 

"You have to be able to protect yourself, even in moments where you are supposed to be perfectly safe. I can't risk anything happening to you..."

He had gifted the handgun to her at dinner, a sleek black instrument with the Shinra crest painted into the side. At first, she had almost protested, but fell silent at what he said next. 

"I swear it, when I thought I'd lost you, I went near mad... I can't... Be in that position again. I'd throw away everything, burn the city to the ground, to keep you safe. So please just... Take that. And pray you never have to use it." 

What could she possibly have said in argument? And besides, the weapon was beautiful. Hand crafted. And fit perfectly in her purse, or inside her jacket. 

Even working the slums, she had never been armed with more than a little knife. Packing true heat, just in case, was a novelty to her, but also a reminder of her new place in the world. A potential target. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to that, but, for his sake, she would try. 

All in all, she thought, she was adjusting pretty well, keeping most things to herself as she knew he was under enough pressure. It was enough for her to read the topside magazines, watch the seemingly endless television shows, plant herbs in the penthouse kitchen, and generally try to adjust at her leisure. She was content enough, and that was one less pressure on Rufus. Each day, when he got home, he would ask her what she had done that day, and she would tell him. Even if it was something mundane, he was so glad to hear it, as if rejuvenated by reassurance that she was happy. 

And she was. If asked, and if she thought about it. She was happy. She was loved, safe, never had to worry about going hungry again... She perhaps worried a little that she wasn't deserving of such a life, but she only voiced those concerns once or twice. He resoundingly shouted her down whenever she did. Not literally, but he spent time reassuring her, reminding her that there was nobody else he would rather take her place. 

That was true, too. 

And so, in that fashion, they slowly adapted to their new roles.


	8. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rufus finds himself in need of Pandora's input.

If it wasn't for the near constant reminders of the suffering in the undercity, Pandora might have found her new life perfect. As it was, it was as close to it as comfortable, but she wasn't the type of person to forget where she came from, to suddenly stop caring about the people she had been a part of for her entire life. While this was a simple concept to her, the same could not be said for Rufus, which, unfortunately, frustrated her. 

It was as if he somewhat expected her to forget about the slums, about poverty, about the thousands of people just like her who hadn't been fortunate enough to have a ridiculously wealthy person fall in love with them and raise them from poverty.   
She supposed she couldn't blame him. The world she came from was immensely different to his. While she knew he hadn't had a happy upbringing, he had at least been financially secure. 

Wealth, it seemed, came with the price of a cruel father and a dead mother. Her own parents had been kind, intelligent people, gone far too soon from the world due to the war. She often wished they could have met him. She wondered, vaguely, what her parents, with their glasses and their books, would have thought of someone so abrasive and wealthy as Rufus. 

It was impossible for her to forget where she came from. Impossible to turn a blind eye to the suffering below. For that reason alone, neither should have been surprised when it came to a head.   
The trigger for such, though, was unexpected.   
Rufus, for sure, had thought he was doing the right thing. The prompt for their argument had come from a simple question, one he had expected her to be happy about, rather than furious. It turned out that perhaps he didn't know the circumstances from which she had come well enough, having never been faced with such. 

"How much more funding do you think they'll need below?" He said it casually over coffee, as though it were a simple matter. 

Pandora stared at him for a moment in sheer disbelief. At first she thought he was joking. Did he really think that the problems below could be solved with money? Of course some could, the physical rebuilding, but there were a dozen other things she could think of that couldn't just be swept under the rug with money. 

"You don't seriously think that all this can be fixed with money, do you?" She fixed him with a cold gaze, Mako bathed eyes narrowed in disappointment. She shouldn't have expected any more, of course, but it still stung to hear him be so blase about something so serious. 

"Well, how else will they rebuild down there?" Rufus tilted his head, confused at her annoyance. Surely he was doing the right thing here? He was baffled by her outburst.

"It's not just about money!" She sighed, exasperated. "Of course they need help rebuilding, but none of it means anything unless they know that you're sorry!"

It was his turn to glare. 

"Sorry? I wasn't the one who dropped the fucking plate!"

"No, but it was your father. Your company. They'll never accept your help, let alone remotely want to forgive you, if you just try to buy everyone out." Pandora frowned, "I know that's not how things are done up here, but down there... Sincerity goes a lot further than money." 

He frowned. 

"I thought everyone was poor. Shouldn't they be grateful for the help?"

"Help they wouldn't need if your father hadn't committed an act of genocide." Her tone was icy, all traces of the sweet girl she usually was gone, replaced with the venom of a woman who had seen her home destroyed, people she loved die, friends left worse than destitute. 

He had never seen her so angry; it disconcerted him for a moment. Pandora loved him with all of her heart, all of her being, but this was something she would not back down from. He knew that, recognised it in her straight away, and oddly enough, found himself full of a newfound respect and admiration for her. He had not expected her to be politically minded, but it made sense that, coming from the slums, she would have a certain insight that he would never possess. 

"What... would you do? Aside from provide funds?" 

He was not used to asking advice of anyone, usually so confident in his own carefully laid plans. 

"Aside from the money? Make an effort. Be a better man than your father. Treat the people equally. Don't let them feel like they're alone, forgotten about to just... die down there..." 

He chewed his lip for a moment.

"It's really bad down there, isn't it? Worse than the news?" 

She nodded, haunted again for a brief second by the smell of ash, of blood. Of screams filling the air and ringing in her ears.

"It's unimagineable. That's why... you can't just throw money at it... And hope it goes away. It's a far bigger wound." 

She hadn't expected him to understand, let alone actually listen to what she had to say. The fact that he seemed to actually be taking on board what she was suggesting impressed her, cooled her temper for a while, long enough for him to ask more questions and finally, finally, understand what he must do. 

"Well what about if I establish a department solely for relations with the undercity? We can focus entirely on direct needs and work on those." 

He would probably have thought of it eventually, or so he liked to think. In reality, her insight had given him a fresh look at how to approach the situation. She was, of course, right. The hurt and damage done was far more than just physical. He needed to show that the company was changing. That he was not his father. 

Of course he wanted to prove that anyway, but it hadn't occurred to him to really consider what the lowest of the people thought of him, never had, until she had brought it up.   
He was changing, he realised, changing because of her. It was entirely possible, he thought, that he might end up being a decent man after all, under her influence. 

It almost scared him, how well she matched him. He hadn't expected her to be so intelligent, so in tune with the people, so bright and able to challenge him. Nobody had dared before, and yet here she was. Challenging him. Demanding that he do better, be better, than the sort of man his father had been. The sort of man he could have become, without guidance. 

Even the influence of his Turks was incomparable to her, to the insight she brought, the balance she brought to him. For the first time, it occurred to him how privileged he was to have her beside him.   
Beside him. He should make that a proper thing, he decided. Something official. So that nobody would question her input, her allegiance. 

He found himself silencing the odd gossip magazine here or there over the next few weeks, whenever she made a public appearance with him. Money may not help heal the wounds of the undercity, but it certainly prevented insipid tabloids from digging too deep into her background, for which they were both grateful. 

"I'm not ashamed of what I was, Rufus." She said flatly, "I just hope you aren't, either." 

"It's not about shame. It's about your privacy. You deserve not to be judged, and people are fucking vapid. I don't care what you were, once. All that matters is that you're here now, with me. Fuck what anyone has to say." 

If he was honest, he simply didn't want to bear reading another cagey article speculating on her past. Where had she come from? Who was this mysterious girl with the pretty eyes and gentle smile who was rarely seen away from the new President's side? 

It frustrated him, he realised, not to know where she had come from before the Honeybee Inn. She had never told him, and, he realised with shame, he hadn't asked. 

Perhaps that was a question he should ask before all else, before anything else. Wasn't it important to know? He had told her all about his childhood, his father, the beatings and the constant loneliness. The relief when Tseng, Reno and Rude had come along. They were more than bodyguards. They were the first friends he had ever had, a trio of men he trusted with his life and viewed as brothers, even if it wasn't professional to do so. 

She had nobody but him, as far as he knew. Her parents had died in the Wutai war. That was all he knew. The gaps between the age of sixteen and nineteen had never been filled in, and he found himself filled with a sudden curiosity. 

How bad could it be? He was resolved to ask her, to learn more about the woman he was determined would be his wife, his partner in changing the world.


	9. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion. Rufus asks all the right questions. Pandora provides answers.

"I've been wanting to ask you something."

They were lying in bed together, his arms tight around her. Her forearm hurt a little from where her birth control implant had been removed earlier that day. He wanted a child, one day, and she would gladly give him one, three, five if he so wanted.

He had the potential to be a wonderful, good man, already on the way to becoming so. She was so proud of him, loved him fiercely, with every fibre of her being. They would change the world together, rebuild the broken city and ensure that the suffering ended. That had been his promise to her, as long as they both should live.

"What is it?"

When he hesitated, she blinked, tilted her head in confusion. It was so unlike him to be coy with words.

"I... What happened to you. Between your parents dying and the Inn? You've never told me, Dora, and I don't want to ask, but..."

But he was curious. But he didn't want there to be any secrets between them.

She had, maybe foolishly, hoped he would never ask about her past. Of course there was no escaping it. And she loved him, she loved him so much, surely she could tell him. She had to tell him. How could she spend her life with this man, love him so intensely, and not tell him about Project Lilith, about Angeal and her lost child?

She exhaled softly.

"No, it's okay. It's... Probably past time I told you. Did you ever hear about Project Lilith, when you were Vice?"

He considered for a moment. The name rang a bell, somewhere deep back in his memory.

"One of the underground projects, right? Something to do with women? But it was discarded.. Top secret. How could you have known about it? Unless..."

"Unless I was there." She agreed softly, and then she told him everything. Her parents dying. The poverty. The promise of safety if she enlisted in the project, an experiment for which she was a prime candidate. The mako exposure. The deaths, the torture, the physical endurance. Meeting Angeal. The rebellions, separately, of Sephiroth and Genesis, effectively cutting the project short. The handful of survivors. The fact that she had been the only one to walk out alive, unsupported, the only mark on her the change in her eye color.

Then, further, the loss of her first love. The pain, the loss of his child. The shame and the pain poured out of her then, expecting him to recoil from her. He didn't. Instead, he simply held her, let her talk, horrified.

How long had she kept this a secret? She had told no other living soul but him. She shouldered so much of his burden, it was the least he could do to listen, to hold her.

Rufus found himself disgusted, not with her, but with the experiments his father had allowed to go on under his name. There was, also, to his shame, a hint of jealousy directed at her dead lover. A Soldier. First Class. Dead in action.

He had not, of course, expected that he was her first love, but the fact that hers was dead made him worry. Would he always be competing with a ghost? The thought of what could have been? Perhaps she sensed his discomfort, because she pressed her hand to his cheek and smiled through her tears.

"You give me so much hope, Ru. So much hope. That there's some good left in this world. That there's love and light left in it for me."

He had never seen her so vulnerable. Not when she had shouted at him for trying to pay off the problems in the undercity. Not when he had bound her to his bed and made her his submissive. Not when she had admitted she loved him. 

It pained him to see her this way. 

"Nothing like that will ever happen again, I promise. I'm not going anywhere. You and I? We're in this for the long haul. Forever." 

"The labs-?" 

"I'll have them burned to the ground. Destroyed. Bombed out. Whatever it takes. Nobody deserves to suffer as you did. Mako enhancement isn't worth the suffering." His mouth twisted. How had he never considered that all these magnificent enhancements had come with a body count, test subjects pushed to the limits for the benefit of the rich. It sickened him. 

"Just like that?" She sat up, shocked, amazed, by how quickly he had resolved to make things right. There was no question of profit or benefit. Just simple destruction of something that had hurt her, killed so many others. 

"Well. There is one thing you could do for me, in return?" 

He had planned something so much grander than this, but it just felt right. Felt like the right time. He gently slid from her arms, crossed to his dresser in just his pajama pants, and withdrew a small box, returning to find her cross legged and curious on the bed. 

"What is it?" she wiped makeup from her cheeks, confused. She couldn't see the box in his hand. 

"Nothing too horrible, I hope." He had been waiting. Had wanted to hear her past before he asked her. He had planned a grand gesture, but somehow he knew she wouldn't care about grandeur. Pandora wasn't one for materialism. She loved him. Would love him even if he was penniless, because she saw beneath the money and the cold exterior. She saw the man he was, the man he wanted to be. 

He dropped to his knee and opened the box to her gaze, revealing a single tear drop diamond set in platinum, the twin to her necklace that he had gifted her many months ago. 

"Don't ever leave my side, Pandora. I promise, whatever I have, is yours. My heart. My life. My children. My future. I want to share them with you. Marry me?" 

Fresh tears streaked her face, shock and joy filling her beautiful features. 

"How could I ever say no?" She held out her hand, leaned in to kiss him with more love and tenderness than she could ever recall doing so before. 

The ring fit perfectly. 

"They match?" Curious eyes flitted from her new ring to her necklace, a question forming in her gaze. 

Sheepishly, he lowered his own blue eyes to the ring. 

"Maybe I knew, or hoped, back then... That this would be possible. I knew I'd fight for you even then." 

"You don't have to. I'm not going anywhere." She promised, kissed him again. 

"Thank God. I don't know what I'd do without you." He shook his head, joined her on the bed and scooped her into his arms. 

"Lucky you don't have to find out." She beamed, admiring the diamond's shine in the lamplight.

"Thank God." He repeated simply, pressed his face into her thick, dark hair, inhaling the soft floral scent of her shampoo, thinking to himself that he was the luckiest man alive. 

"Worker bee to Queen bee," she laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

"A honeybee queen on the Shinra throne." He agreed. If anything, he was relieved to know the truth of her past. She was strong. Strong enough to help him carve out a better world.   
He would do all he could, all in his power, to keep her safe and happy, to be a better man. To build a better world for her, for their children. 

That was his promise. His unspoken vow to the woman he loved. The woman whose future was so intertwined with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried writing this. Thank you everyone who has read, commented, and encouraged.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue.

EPILOGUE

The gentle breeze was perfect for the occasion, the warmth of the midsummer air comfortable on Rufus' skin.

He felt under dressed in just slacks, a dress shirt, tie and waistcoat, but this was what his love had wanted. No fairytale wedding. No pomp and paparazzi. Just the two of them, their close friends, and the love they held for each other.

The bride wore a short white dress with billowing bell sleeves, a crown of daisies woven into her curls. Her face was minimally made up, mako green eyes alight with excitement and love as she approached him.

His Turks, his brothers, they were all the witness they needed, a few friends of hers from the undercity to make up the numbers.

The platinum ring would have once frightened him, made him shy away from commitment. With her, it was almost a relief to slide it onto his finger. To tie himself to her for life. To know that only death would part them, and even then, not for many, many years to come. 

Her smile was radiant when he kissed her, reflected in his own expression. For the first time in a long time, perhaps his entire life, Rufus Shinra felt at peace, truly happy. 

From the lifestream, Angeal Hewley watched the girl he had loved in life, so alive and vibrant, so loved by a man she would never have seen coming. He breathed a sigh of relief. His watch was ended. He could finally be at peace, knowing she was safe. Knowing she was loved. 

A gentle breeze passed over the bride as she placed a flower from her hair into her new husband's blonde locks, laughing as she did so. The flowers went next to each of the guests, so that they might carry a piece of the newly-weds' happiness with them. 

She had never expected this, never expected to feel so fulfilled, so full of life, so loved and needed in this world. Rufus Shinra had changed all of that for her, and Pandora Kincaid, now Pandora Shinra, was adamant that she would do all she could to be dutiful to him, to support him, to advocate for change. He had been her light in darkness. She one day hoped to repay all he had done for her. 

For now, she contented herself sipping strawberry wine with her friends, her husband, unaware and excited for the blissful future to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire work is dedicated to my dear, dear friend, who went by the writer tag Persona when this fic began. Without them and their wonderful portrayal of Rufus, without our role plays, this fanfic would never have been born as a back story, a gap filler.  
> For their friendship, patience, and plot lines, I am forever grateful.


End file.
